How Wonderful Life Is Now You're In The World
by PhantomVoldyGleek24601
Summary: Blaine is the black sheep of the Anderson family. He wishes they'd understand how happy he is with his boyfriend Kurt...Meet the Andersons! My first fanfic xD Klaine Rated T because I'm paranoid and for some language that may be used...enjoy! xD
1. Chapter 1

Kurt Hummel realised his boyfriend was not okay within about two seconds. In those beautiful hazel eyes, almost like deep pools of molten gold, there was none of the usual sparkle-or anything at all. They looked…empty. Like a old penny that turned rusty with age, Blaine Anderson's eyes had the same dull look, wiped of their former glory. The more Kurt looked at him as he approached, the more he knew-there was definitely something wrong.

"Hey, Kurt, how are you?" The tanned guitarist smiled brightly enough-but his eyes remained unchanged. They kept flicking away from Kurt into the distance, like they were trying to get away from something.

"I'm fine, thank you…and how are you?" the countertenor asked carefully, implying in his voice he knew the answer was negative.

"Oh, just great, thank you," The over-wide smile was still there, but his fantastically handsome face did not light up. Kurt raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow.

"Blaine, what's up?" he put to him bluntly.

"Nothing!" The expression on Blaine's face at the absurdity of such a suggestion was that bit _too_ theatrical. "Nothing, nothing at all," the guitarist insisted, his voice a half-octave higher than usual.

"Blaine…" Kurt did not drop his gaze. "I can read you like a book,"

The curly-haired boy sighed, knowing when he was defeated. He looked at Kurt with those dull eyes. "I'd…" He paused. "I'd really rather forget about it today,"

Gently, Kurt took his hands in his. "You can tell me anything,"

"I know, baby, it's just…" Kurt felt the guitarist's hands tense. "How about we go inside?"

Go inside? This must be really serious. Worry bit at Kurt like a nest of red ants as they entered the coffee shop, which was nearly deserted, apart from a gum-chewing girl at the counter, a few couples and one woman with a baby on her lap. After a quick argument, Blaine paid for Kurt's drink and his own, and they sat down at their favourite table, mostly obscured in a corner by a large green plant. Absent-mindedly stroking the long, green leaves, Kurt realised Blaine hadn't bought his usual coffee. Hot chocolate. That was Blaine's comfort drink. Kurt knew for a fact that he only ever drank it when ill, hurt or upset.

"So what's wrong?" Kurt's voice had a nervous, urgent edge to it.

Blaine was silent for a while, taking his time stirring sugar into the steaming brown liquid. He watched the white powder dissolve into the depths of the paper cup.

"Blaine?" The countertenor's voice went up at the end, squeaking a little.

"Look, Kurt, I-"

"Hello, Porcelain,"

Kurt squealed in shock and surprise as Sue Sylvester, complete with red tracksuit and, for some reason, a lasso, seemed to materialise out of nowhere right beside them.

"Urm…good evening, Miss Sylvester," Blaine, looking glad of a distraction, greeted the coach politely.

"Anderson," she said dismissively, turning her attention back to Kurt. "I was just in town picking up some of the same perfume as Will Schuester's ex-wife with which to torment him," she drawled in her low, rather monotone way.

"Oh! How…original," Kurt always wondered why Miss Sylvester would tell her latest plans to ruin Glee Club to any member of said club with ease.

"Yes," the cheerleading coach agreed. "Anyway, Ladytrousers, I've a spot for a soprano on the Cheerios right now. I figured if I got you and Aretha Franklin back, we'd storm Nationals this year-like we should have last year…so what do you say, Fairy Princess?" It sounded like more of an order than a request. Her piercing eyes looked expectantly at the surprised Kurt.

"Urm…" He wasn't sure. But Blaine was nodding encouragingly. Of course the idea of Kurt in a cheerleading uniform was attractive to him. Kurt shook is head slightly, smiling-when a sudden idea hit him.

"I'll come back to the Cheerios-if Blaine joins,"

The look on Blaine's face was priceless. In the pure shock, his eyes lost their dullness and his mouth fell open. "What-?" He looked like a firework had just blown up in his face.

Miss Sylvester was studying him carefully. "Stand up, Starkid Glasses,"

Blaine got slowly to his feet, looking like he was facing a firing squad. Kurt winked mischievously at him.

"Hmm…Well, I could use another guy, I suppose…You're good-looking enough,"

"Thank you?" Blaine was looking more uncomfortable by the second.

"Good. You're on the squad. First practise is tomorrow after school where you will be issued with your uniform-but slack, and you're off, okay? And if you fail to show up…well, I'll leave that with you. We'll see if that brain beneath those infernal curls actually works. See ya, Porcelain," Sue turned on her trainer heel and went away. Blaine sat down, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Wow! I think I just became a cheerleader!" He looked like he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but at least he wasn't all down and quiet any more.

"Well, this should be fun!" Kurt beamed. "We'll get to spend even more time together, and with two nationals championships this year…"

"Hmm…I guess it can't hurt to try," Blaine shrugged.

"And you _do_ look good in red," Kurt added, with a smile. Blaine took a drink of the hot chocolate, looking thoughtfully at nothing in particular.

"_Fairy Princess_?" he suddenly snickered, raising his eyebrows.

The countertenor felt his cheeks blush pink. "That's just Miss Sylvester…"

Blaine had started to laugh, his face finally brightening up properly. Kurt was half relieved, and half annoyed. "Blaine!" he moaned.

"That sounds more like a compliment than an insult!" He reached over and took Kurt's pale hand in his across the table. "Let's face it, you _are_ like a Disney princess,"

"What do you mean by that?" Kurt squeaked, surprised, not knowing whether to be insulted or not. Blaine's eyes shone with mischief.

"Well…you randomly sing everywhere…"

"So do you!"

"You made friends with a bird…"

"Pavarotti?"

"You're pale with rosy cheeks, and the only teenager I know who's never had a zit…You're innocent and unsuspecting,"

"Not true!" the countertenor protested-though it was.

"You like to wear amazing, unique clothes, and _make_ clothes too…" Blaine was obviously enjoying watching Kurt squirm, grinning.

"_Without_ the assistance of mice," Kurt had started to laugh too by this point, head in his hands.

"You have a _dashingly_ handsome prince," Blaine pretended to preen, earning a light kick under the table from Kurt's designer boot.

"Christ, you even have a step-mother!"

"She's not evil!" Kurt's face was beetroot red as he struggled to control his laughter.

"And you're beautiful,"

That caught Kurt off-guard. _Beautiful_. Blaine had never-in fact _no one _ever had called him…_beautiful_.

His heart was racing, his eyes widening. He sat up a little straighter, replaying the last three words in his head. Feeling light-headed, he shyly twisted a lock of his hair around, feeling his cheeks blush pink. Blaine thought he was _beautiful_. Oh my Barbra…

The guitarist had that _I-just-won_ look as he smiled at his boyfriend, squeezing his hand. "You look like you've got the Nargles now. They fly inside your head and make your brain go fuzzy," he grinned.

"Oh, Blaine, you _would_ ruin the moment by making a Harry Potter reference," Kurt pretended to be annoyed, whilst still trying to compose himself. He knew there was a stupid smile on his blushing face.

"_I'm the Mickey to your Minnie, the Tigger to your Winnie!_"Blaine sang, laughing.

"Is it actually possible to have a conversation with you without bringing up Harry Potter, or anything associated with him?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, are we?"

Kurt was about to respond with a clever, witty comeback- then he remembered. "Hey, what was up?"

His handsome face changed dramatically, though he tried to hide it. "…It's just…you know, my parents…"

Ah.

"What did they do?" Blaine _never_ talked about his family. Worry was biting unpleasantly at Kurt again.

The guitarist hesitated. "It's…well. I sort of had a fight with my dad just now,"

Instantly, Kurt reached over and took his other hand, gently rubbing the palm. "What about?" he asked softly. Kurt didn't have much of a clue about what fighting with your dad was like. He and Burt had always got on, any disagreement forgotten by morning. But obviously Mr Anderson was not like his father at all. Well, he'd never actually met him, but from what he gathered, he was not at all okay with Blaine being gay. In fact, from what Blaine had mentioned occasionally, he resented the idea. Kurt hated for his boyfriend to have a father like that.

"…Well, you know what he's like," Blaine made a vague gesture, obviously trying to avoid the topic. But Kurt could see he needed to spit it out.

"Tell me," he persisted.

Blaine sighed, realising he was not going to get away from this. "Well…about you, actually,"

"_Me_?" Kurt's eyes widened in surprise. His boyfriend was looking ashamed.

"Don't hate me,"

"What?" The countertenor was even more confused. "Blaine, what's going on?"

"I kind of never told my parents about…you know, me having a boyfriend,"

Kurt's heart sank to the ground. Subconsciously, his hands were loosening their grip on Blaine's. He hadn't told his parents about him? They'd been together for _months_, and he'd never told them he had a boyfriend?

He'd come right home from school that wonderful, magical day after their first kiss in a daze of love, and sang out excitedly and proudly to a shocked Finn: "I've got a _boyfriend_!" After the initial _I-must-beat-him-up-henceforth_ brotherly notion, he'd been cool with it, happy to see Kurt above Cloud Nine after all he'd been through. He'd told Carole the minute she got home from work, both squealing in excitement and they had a long girly chat about him, which was great. He'd screamed down the phone to Mercedes, who was so excited she was at his front door within five minutes. But when he'd told his father about Blaine later that night, it had been so scary. He'd had no idea how Burt would react. But he told him, and after replicating Finn's first thoughts for a bit and possibly muttering "Where's my gun?", he'd got used to the idea. When he'd nervously bought Blaine home for the first time, they'd hit it off right away and got on like a house on fire. Carole adored him, and he was good friends with Finn too. But then Kurt's family were evidently nothing like Blaine's, in fairness. And he'd never really _wanted_ to meet Blaine's parents-they didn't exactly sound like the nicest of people. But not even telling them at all, after all this time? Kurt felt betrayed. He felt like he was being buried, suffocated, clammy hands squeezing the breath out of his lungs. He was shocked and hurt.

"Why?" he managed to choke out. "Because you're _ashamed_?"

"No! No, no, no!" Blaine held onto Kurt hands. "Of course I'm not ashamed of you!"

"But we're sat behind a freaking plant so we can be a couple in public!" Kurt sprang to his feet.

"Kurt-what are you-?"

But he didn't have time to finish the sentence as Kurt leaned over the table, knocking over his latte in the process, grabbed Blaine by his black skinny tie and, in deliberate full view, kissed him full on the lips, very passionately, the full works. The feeling of Blaine's lips against his was still magic, and he felt most of the blood leave his head as he felt dizzier, but this kiss was tainted with bitterness. However, it worked. When he finally let go, Blaine looked like he'd just witnessed a planet exploding. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Looking at Kurt like he was some sort of angel that had just appeared to him, his expression was so out of it, it was almost comic.

"There! No need to be ashamed!" Kurt sat down triumphantly.

"…urrhhh…"

"Speak English, will you, sweetheart?" He sat the paper latte cup back up, thankful the lid meant none had spilt. Blaine still looked hypnotised.

"That was some kiss…" he breathed.

"Yes, but it was to make a point!"

"Woah…"

"Hello?" Kurt waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Blaine?"

Eventually, Blaine came to his senses. "Wow…" He stroked Kurt's face gently. "That made me remember just how incredible you are,"

"Incredible I may be, but obviously not enough to tell your parents about me!" He was still annoyed. Blaine started to protest, but Kurt cut over him: "How did they find out, then?"

"Well…that's a long story…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Everyone! **

**Thank you so much for reading, it means so much :D **

**I forgot to do Author's Notes on Chapter One, but hey. Anyway, I'm British and trying to write in an American dialect, so apologies for any inaccuracies and inconsistencies in the language! **

**I really hope you enjoy, and please review with any ideas of your own, as I'm very open to suggestions and requests! **

**Thank you, lots of love and unicorn-ness from PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxx **

**PS- I own nothing! Not Glee, not Harry Potter, nor anything else mentioned here! If I owned Glee, they'd be at Hogwarts…**

_A few hours earlier…_

Blaine Anderson did not often feel like Dudley Dursley. But as he stood dutifully near the door, his hair gelled tighter than he normally would with the side-parting dead straight, dressed in a black suit jacket, a white shirt with a black skinny tie and his newest black skinny jeans, he was strongly reminded of a scene in _The Chamber of Secrets: "May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Mason?"_

He wasn't waiting to greet his father's boss and his wife; Mr Anderson was as high up as he could possibly get-he was other people's boss. But this was worse. Today was the thrice-annual day Blaine dreaded-the day the extended Anderson family visited.

It was tradition in the their family that they always got together and had lunch on the, 29th June, 15th November and 23rd December-why those dates, Blaine didn't have a clue. But it always happened, and missing it was not an option. He checked the clock on the wall-only twelve o'clock. And they weren't even here yet. He just counted his lucky stars there weren't too many of them.

It was days like this where Blaine would love to _lock himself in his bedroom, making no noise and pretending he wasn't there_, but that was impossible. He'd have to ride it out. Sighing a little, he took out his iPhone to check for messages, and smiled at the picture of Kurt that was his background. He'd taken it a few weeks ago, when they'd gone for a walk in the park. Kurt was lying on the grass-well, on the jacket Blaine had chivalrously lain down, the bright sun reflecting flatteringly on his angelic face. He was looking straight into the camera with those beautiful blue-green eyes, and as he looked at it, Blaine felt his heart melt into warm liquid. He loved him so much, it was unreal. If only…

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door, a smart, precise knock. Blaine took a deep breath, and plastered a social smile on his face, hoping it wouldn't look pained. He turned the latch, and opened one of the large white front doors with intricate stained glass windows. Stood in the doorway was a seventy-_I'm-sixty-nine_-year-old woman with grey roots showing beneath her defiantly-dyed blonde curls, her wrinkled face covered in thick foundation, her creased eyes heavily outlined and her lips painted pink, the colour running in the deep channels caused by age. She smiled with perfect white teeth that weren't hers as she took in the sight of her grandson through contact lenses. "Hello, darling!"

"Hi, Grandma," Blaine continued trying to force his smile as she presented her much-powdered cheek for him to kiss. She smelled too strongly of very floral perfume, the scent intoxicating as she removed her snowy-white fur coat (to be honest, Blaine wouldn't be surprised if it was real fur-and she'd slain the creature herself). Handing it to Blaine to hang up along with her disproportionately heavy handbag, she was clearly inspecting him. This unnerved him, but he tried to ignore it.

"So…how are you, Grandma?" he asked politely.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, my dear, just fine. Now, will you show me through? I oughtn't be on my feet too long, especially in these shoes," She took his arm in her manicured hand and let him walk her through the large entrance hall into the second dining room, which had been carefully set with all the best glasses and snowy table cloth that was only ever used for these occasions. Sat at the table waiting dutifully, dressed in a black suit more suited to a funeral director, was Blaine's father.

Mr Edward Anderson looked eerily like Blaine, only with grey hair and more lines on his rather paler face. However, in personalities, they were polar opposites. Mr Anderson was a quiet, reserved man, who rarely smiled and was generally very awkward. He could be sharp, but scarcely spoke more than one sentence before retreating back into his huge study, locking the door. He barely communed with anyone, apart from work-related people-and almost never spoke to his son at all.

Blaine had come out to both his parents when he was fifteen. It had been hard, and they had been shocked. Well, his mother had. Mr Anderson's expression had barely changed, only raising his silver eyebrows a little. He hadn't said a word. Throughout his mother's hysterics about how she'd never have grandchildren, he'd been silent, staring right through his son like he wasn't really there. But as the weeks went by, after the initial fireworks, they just didn't mention it. To them, if you didn't talk about it, it didn't exist. So Blaine never brought it up either. He thought he didn't need their support-he made his own confidence. And since Kurt, life had been too incredible to care about their little prejudices. He just counted himself lucky they hadn't disowned him as he'd feared. However, Mr Anderson had never been an affectionate father. To him, having children was a duty. So his reluctance to speak to Blaine wasn't all down to his sexuality.

Blaine did not think his father was a bad man-just very old-fashioned and too set in his ways for new ideas.

"Hello, Mom," Mr Anderson stood up to greet his mother.

"Hello there, Edward," She hugged him that bit too close for the awkward man. He patted her back uncertainly, never having liked being too close to people. "You've put on weight, dear," she remarked, as the doorbell rang again, and Blaine scooted off to answer it.

The guitarist has no idea how or why, but the relatives always seemed to arrive in the same order every single time. Before he'd opened the front door, he'd predicted Uncle David and Aunt Sharon, his father's sister and her husband. As usual, Uncle David punched him that bit too hard on the arm with a "Hey, buddy!" more suited to a seven-year-old as opposed to seventeen, and Aunt Sharon displayed the same standoffishness as her brother, stiffly presenting her cheek for Blaine to kiss and not saying a word, apart from a stiff "Hello,"

After leading them through to the dining room, where conversation was floated by Grandma and Uncle David as his dad and Aunt Sharon sat awkwardly, sipping wine, the bell rang out it's annoying tune, and here was Uncle Philip-Don't-Call-Me-Phil, the third and eldest socially awkward sibling of his father's, and his wife Rebecca-Call-Me-Becky, with their two small children in tow. Uncle Philip was probably the reason his father had without saying forbade he or his mother to say anything to the rest of the family about Blaine being gay.

"Blaine!" Six-year-old Anna leaped onto her cousin, hugging him hard around the waist.

"Air-plane, air-plane!" Four-year-old James pulled on Blaine's leg, clamouring to be lifted up. Smiling properly for the first time, Blaine did not disappoint, scooping the small curly-haired boy up and whizzing him around over his head, his screams of delight filling the echo-y hall.

"Me now, me now!" Anna was determined for Blaine's attention, her blonde curls flying as she jumped up and down.

"Okay, sweetie, just let your Mommy and Daddy get through the door!" Blaine stood aside to let Uncle Philip pass wordlessly, hanging up his jacket, and Aunt Becky give him the usual big hug and kiss on both cheeks.

"Hey, Blaine, how are you doing?" She smiled at him, but he knew she was just like Grandma for inspecting people and making judgements in her head. He felt like he was being X-Rayed by her piercing green eyes. But she was the first relative to ask him how he was.

"I'm good, thank you, and yourself?" he asked her politely, swooping Anna up over his head to more childish shrieks of joy.

"Oh, I'm fine, just fine. Is everyone in the dining room?"

"Yes, yes, go right on through, Dad's pouring the wine,"

"Oh, excellent. Come on, Phil," She took her husband's arm, ignoring his protest that it was Phil_ip_, and began to cross the hall. "Keep the kids entertained until lunch, there's a dear," she called over her shoulder.

Blaine raised an eyebrow-Aunt Becky seemed to always palm her children off on someone else, whether it be a nanny or boarding school, as was planned for them both in the future. But he loved looking after kids, and his little cousins were cool, if a little spoiled.

"Blaine, Blaine, look at my new dress!" Anna twirled around, the cute pink dress under the white cardigan she was wearing flying out. She pouted, for a second looking uncannily like Kurt in a clothes' store fitting room. Blaine smiled-he could so see Kurt dressing Anna up, taking her shopping, playing princesses with her…he sighed a little. He _did_ want Kurt to meet his family. He just…

"Blaine, play with me!" James was running a toy car along the mahogany hall table, making racing car sounds.

"Don't you look pretty, Anna?" he beamed at her as he knelt down on the floor beside James and started a mini grand prix with him along the marble tiles. Anna happily climbed onto Blaine's back, clinging on like a little koala and chatting nineteen-to-the-dozen. James's racing car noises bounced off the walls, making the house suddenly seem alive and happy, and full of hope. The kind of house Blaine wished he had…

"Darlings?"

The rather short Pilipino woman in a fancy pink designer dress that bit too young for her was walking swiftly towards where Blaine was wrestling in a heap with his cousins. Mrs Nicolette Anderson. Well, her real first name was just Nicole, but it didn't suit her image. To sum her up-she was the absolute stereotype of posh upper-class-ness.

Okay, she wasn't really. She'd been brought up by foster parents on near-enough minimum wage, then took her High School Diploma to get a job as a secretary at his father's business. She worked her way up, and from what Blaine could gather, seduced her boss and had him up the aisle within a year. She finally had the life she thought she deserved, in this huge house with cleaners and gardeners and what not. She could wear designer clothes and gossip on the sofa with her "friends" all day, and push her way up the social ladder.

Blaine had to admire her pluck-but it was hard. He hated to speak ill of his mother, but she was-well, a right Anderson. Again, she didn't think she was a bad person; he just found the irritating _I'm-above you _way she treated people, and the way she'd acted with him since he came out, frankly infuriating.

Her white-spotted high heels clacked along the floor as she reached them, a big (false) smile on her red lip-sticky mouth. She clapped her small hands with their false nails together. "Well, doesn't this look fun!" Blaine hated how patronising she was.

"Aunt Nicolette!" Anna and James sprang up to hug her. Blaine held back a laugh as she warily patted them on their curly heads, the expression on her overly-made-up face reading clearly _don't touch me_.

"Yes, children, it's lovely to see you both!" she beamed down at them, her false-eyelashed eyes not lighting up. "Now, why don't you both go on through to the dining room? Lunch is nearly ready,"

Obediently, they both scampered off into the latter room, James still making his adorable racing car sounds. Blaine sat up, placing the toy car safely on the hall table.

"Fix your hair, darling," Mrs Anderson told her son. Of course. Blaine's mother's middle name should be _Keeping Up Appearances-Or Else_. Stifling a sigh, Blaine scrambled to his feet and began to smooth his hair in the gold-framed mirror on the wall. After a second, she came up behind him and took over, neatening his hair with skilled hands. For some reason, this annoyed him. "You've got such lovely hair, darling, if only you'd stop gelling it," she commented. Blaine grunted in response.

"And what is with this tie? I told you, it is not appropriate!"

"It's a tie," Blaine pointed out. "Why is that inappropriate?"

"It's…" She let the black skinny tie slide between her fingers, sighing. "I wish you'd wear a proper one, darling,"

"What suffices as a "proper tie?"" Blaine didn't mean to be rude, but his mother sometimes made him just snap.

"Don't be rude, darling," Her voice was sweet like honey-but there was definitely a bee-sting in there.

He thought of Kurt's relationship with Carole. He thought of Kurt's relationship with Burt…he let out a sigh.

"Did you just yawn? I told you, you stay up far too late…"

Blaine really was _not_ in the mood for a lecture-but luckily the doorbell rang unexpectedly.

"Who could that be?" Mrs Anderson wondered aloud. "Get the door, darling,"

Blaine went to get the door, opened it-and his face broke into a huge smile. Stood on the doorstep in a red coat she'd had since he could remember was a small woman with grey hair and no make-up on her lined face. She smiled back warmly, instantly looking years younger. "Alright there, pet?" she beamed in her smoking-tainted Irish voice.

"Grandma!" Blaine threw his arms around her as he did every time he saw his mother's foster mother. He drank in her familiar smell of old person and mint imperials, feeling as he always did comforted and at home. Grandma Lucy was one of his favourite people in the world. She was not an Anderson, but an O'Malloy, as was his mother's maiden name. Most of his happiest childhood memories involved her. Really, she was Blaine's rock. She was the first person he'd come out to, and she was amazing about it. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, fine, thanks, and yourself?" she asked as Blaine took her coat willingly and hung it up.

"I'm great, thank you,"

"Hello, Lucy," came Mrs Anderson's voice from behind. Instantly, Blaine felt the normal rush of annoyance and pity as his mother refused to call her "mom" any more.

"Hi there, love," The two woman looked at each other. Suddenly, Blaine felt the same sense of awkwardness as he did between himself and his father.

"We weren't expecting you. Edward's family are over," His mother leaned on one heel. "Oh well, there's plenty to go around," she seemed reluctant to admit. "Blaine, darling, go and set your…grandmother…a place,"

Ten minutes later, the family were sat around the long table, cutlery scraping against the plates and conversation being floated by Grandma Anderson, his mother and Aunt Becky. Anna and James swung their legs, clearly having a foot fight out of sight, but no one noticed. His father, Aunt Sharon and Uncle Philip did not say a word. Grandma Lucy was of the same mind as Blaine-keep your head down and try and tune out the superficial conversation. Every now and then, they shared a secret smile.

Blaine loved it when Grandma Lucy turned up out of the blue, as she did at least once a month. Even though they weren't blood related, she was the only member of their family Blaine felt truly close to. She knew he was gay-and it didn't make the slightest bit of difference to her. She loved him unconditionally, and for exactly who he was, no matter what. When he'd come out to his parents, if they'd kicked him out, she would have been the person he'd gone to.

He loved going to her apartment, on the outskirts of town. It wasn't big and fancy like Blaine's house, but it _felt_ like a home, smelling of baking bread and washing powder. He hated how reluctant his mother was to go visit her there, how she let her make her way all the way here in a taxi to see the woman she'd always seen as her only daughter. Since her husband, Blaine's grandpa, had died when Blaine was about three, she must be so lonely.

Beside Blaine, there was an empty place. The chair still had a fancy cushion on the seat, but no one occupied it. Just for a second, Blaine imagined Kurt seated beside him, his small, pale hand holding his under the table…the rest of the family dissolved as Blaine thought about his wonderful boyfriend, his smile like the sun on a shining sea, the brightest star in the galaxy…

Conversation became somewhat strained. Blaine guessed there was only so much they had to say to each other. Apart from boasting.

"So how's school?" Uncle David suddenly asked him.

"Oh, it's…" _Absolute heaven now it's beside my Kurt again. _"okay, thanks,"

"Still singing?"

"Oh yes!" Blaine grinned-though he could have sworn his father looked momentarily disappointed.

"I've never heard you sing!" Aunt Becky looked surprised.

"He's got a _lovely _voice," Grandma Lucy smiled at him proudly. "And he plays guitar, and piano, and violin too!"

"Well…I'm alright," Blaine said modestly.

"Why don't you go get your guitar and sing something now?" Grandma Anderson suggested, obviously feeling she'd missed something. Blaine was a little taken aback.

"What, _now_ now?" Everyone was looking at him expectantly. "Urm…okay,"

It felt a little forced as he trekked upstairs to his currently rather messy bedroom to fetch his guitar Katy-after Ms Perry, of course. When he returned after quickly tuning her, he made his way back down. Eyes were all looking at him keenly, although in some cases slightly patronisingly. What should he play? His mind had gone utterly blank.

"Well…what do you guys like?" he tried in desperation.

"Disney!" piped up Anna immediately. All the adults laughed, but Blaine was hit by inspiration.

"Okay, sweetie, Disney it is," He fished a guitar pick from his pocket and began to play his rocked-out interpretation of a well-loved classic. Taking a deep breath, he began to sing:

"_Look at me, I will never pass for a perfect bride, or a perfect daughter_

_Can it be I wasn't meant to play this part?_

_Now I see that if I was to truly be myself, I would break my family's heart…_

_Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me?_

_Why is my reflection someone I don't know?_

_Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I've tried_

_When will my reflection show who I am inside?_

_When will my reflection show who I am inside?"_

Blaine finished the song, and looked nervously up at his family. After a tense second-they burst into applause, cheering.

"Wow!" Grandma Anderson was looking-impressed! For what was probably the first time in her life! Blaine did an inward happy dance as his relatives congratulated and praised him. Grandma Lucy was beaming with pride, and he distinctly saw her wipe a tear-bless her.

"I meant Hannah Montana…but that was nice," said Anna, stroking the guitar.

"Hannah Montana indeed!" Blaine shook his head-then caught sight of his father.

Mr Anderson didn't say a word, and had not clapped. His face was an expression of-_disappointment_?And _embarrassment_?

Then, it dawned on him. Of course. How dare his _gay_ son sing a girl's song? Blaine felt anger welling up in his chest-but determinedly pushed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead, he settled for a cold smile, which he knew would unnerve him.

"Well, well done, darling," Mrs Anderson's face was similar to her husband's, looking around to check if any relatives were commenting on Blaine's song choice.

"That used to be one of my favourite songs…" Grandma Anderson was saying. "It's very lovely, especially Lea Salonga's version,"

"You know who Lea Salonga is?" Blaine felt his respect for his paternal grandmother rise immediately. "She's just amazing!"

"Yes, she is," Grandma Anderson, for the first time, gave Blaine a real smile. "_Miss Saigon _is simply outstanding,"

"_You are sunlight and I moon…" _Blaine sang, and Grandma Anderson beamed, clapping her manicured hands in delight. He grinned-they'd finally found something in common! "Me and Kurt were singing that yesterday,"

"Who's Kurt, darling?" his mother asked. She had this thing about needing to know who everyone was.

"Oh, my boyfriend,"

There was silence.

You could have cut it with a knife.

At the same moment, Blaine realised what he'd said, and his father's face turned a bright, angry scarlet. _Oh, shit!_

Mr Anderson looked murderous, mortified.

"Your _boyfriend_?" Uncle David asked carefully, sure he'd misheard.

"Urm-he just means his friend who's a boy!" Mrs Anderson gave a shaky, nervous, high-pitched giggle. "It's just his little joke!"

Blaine was about to agree, cover up for the sake of his parent's humiliation-then, he remembered: _courage_…

Why on earth should he cover up for his parents? Why shouldn't he be exactly who he is? Why should he have to hide?

"No, I mean my _boyfriend_," he said, quietly, but loud enough.

There was another moment of that dreadful, ear-splitting silence. Uncle Philip had taken off his glasses, looking at Blaine like he'd grown another head. Aunts Becky and Sharon were looking scandalised. Uncle David was looking confused. Anna and James were blissfully obtuse, but Grandma Anderson looked wildly from her son to her grandson, begging one of them to contradict her. Grandma Lucy hadn't known about Kurt either; she looked surprised, but not in a bad way. More a _why-didn't-you-tell-me? _Blaine wondered why he'd never told her.

Then, there were his parents.

Oh, God.

"Blaine…" Mr Anderson had stood up, looking at Blaine like he was-a total stranger. He was keeping his quiet voice level-but he was shaking with anger. A flicker of fear came alive inside the guitarist. "I think we need to…talk outside,"

**Thank you for reading, and Chapter III will be posted as soon as I can! Much love xxxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, all you wonderful people ****J**

**Thank you so much for reading xD And a BIG thank you to my unicorn (you know who you are!) for being my official proof-reader! **

**Enjoy, and review if you want to! J PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxx**

"…so yeah, he got-pretty mad and…" Blaine's voice trailed away.

Instantly, Kurt rushed around the table and perched on his close-to-tears boyfriend's lap, resting his head on his hair and putting his arms tight around him. Sometimes, you just forgave.

"Oh, honey, it's okay," he whispered soothingly, kissing his hair.

Blaine snuggled into him gratefully, blinking rapidly. He was determined not to let the threatening tears fall. His father would _not_ get the satisfaction.

"Then-amongst other things- he told me to get out of his sight. So I-I sent you the text-"

"Asking me to meet you here," Kurt finished for him.

"Yeah…so I think I'm now officially the worst son he could have asked for…" Blaine looked utterly downcast, so un-self-assured like he usually was.

"Don't say that!" Kurt took both his hands firmly. "There is nothing wrong with you. I think that should have made him respect you more!"

"You don't know him, Kurt…" The guitarist seemed to be shrinking. There was none of his confidence now. He was almost like a child, a scared, lost child. "Oh crap, what's my mom going to do?" he said suddenly, his whole body tensing up. It killed Kurt to see his boyfriend like this; he looked so hopeless. He seemed so much smaller and younger suddenly. The countertenor felt like an adult comforting a scared kid.

"I don't know what to do…" Blaine murmured, shaking his head. "I just don't know…"

"If you don't want to go home, of course you can stay at mine,"

Giving him a soft kiss on the cheek that made Kurt's heart skip despite everything, Blaine gave a small, thin laugh. "Your couch is lumpy," he joked. "No, I'm going to go home. I'm not letting them have the satisfaction of beating me. But I might…you know, leave it a bit. Until all the relatives are gone,"

"I couldn't imagine having a family like that…" Kurt was appalled at the Anderson's reaction to their own flesh and blood.

"Well, no offence, but I don't think it would have been a shock to anyone in your family when you came out,"

"But you didn't come out to them by choice, really," Kurt leaned his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "That must have been horrible for you," he murmured softly.

"…No, I'm glad they know now. But…yeah, it would have been nice to have told them in my own time…cushioned the blow a bit…I mean, at least this time it just slipped off my tongue. No big build-up for weeks when I was deciding whether to tell my parents…"

Kurt sloped down a little so his head fitted neatly into the curve of Blaine's neck. It wasn't often Kurt Hummel didn't know what to say.

"Well, at least everyone knows everything now. My family know I'm gay, my parents know I've got a boyfriend…and I know not to play a Disney princess song in front of my father again!"

Kurt smiled. "You can play Disney princess songs to me instead,"

"Sounds like a plan,"

"I think you were really brave for doing that," Kurt murmured. "Standing up to them,"

"Yeah…standing up for myself has never been my strong point!" Blaine laughed weakly. "You're the fierce one," he snickered, jabbing Kurt playfully in the ribs.

"Fierce? Me? I resent that!" Kurt did his best innocent face, complete with his signature puppy-dog eyes. His boyfriend laughed again. Luckily, he seemed to be cheering up a little. Kurt was just so glad that he'd got it off his chest. It still bothered him a little that Blaine hadn't told his parents about him, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. What was important now was that Blaine was okay.

"Come on, we'll go back to my place-Carole's made brownies!" Kurt grinned, knowing his boyfriend wouldn't need the bribe.

Kurt and Blaine crashed through the front door of the Hummel-Hudsen residence, laughing like lunatics at something. Giggling hard and uncontrollably, Kurt hung onto Blaine for support, staggering scarcely able to breathe, both of them almost tripping over thin air.

"You're not drunk, are you?" came a nervous voice. A six foot something teen with short, brown hair and an awkward expression was stood in the hallway, his head scraping the lampshade suspended from the ceiling.

"No, Finn, we're not drunk," Kurt gathered himself, looking up at his step-brother. He looked more carefully. Finn's eyes were red; his face pale and his hair was a mess. "Are _you_?"

"No…well, I don't think I am…any more…" He yawned. "I just woke up…"

"Oh my Barbra, Finn, it's, like, four o'clock!" Kurt suddenly recoiled, catching a whiff of stale drink and morning breath. "Ewww, you haven't even brushed your teeth!"

"_Yeah_, hence "_just woke up_,"" Finn was always sarcastic and grumpy when he had a hang-over. "Gah, my head…" he moaned.

"You must have been royally smashed," Blaine said in an almost congratulatory tone. "Where were you last night?"

"Urm…" Finn struggled to remember. "Oh, Kurt-could you, like, not tell Mom I was, you know…?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "Sneaking out, are we?"

Finn raised one back. "About to get kicked so hard you sing soprano are we-oh…" His voice trailed off as he realised what a useless comeback that was in the case of Kurt. The latter and his boyfriend cracked up laughing. Finn was looking gradually more homicidal. Cool and easy-going as he pretended he was, Kurt knew his step-brother hated jokes at his expense.

"So who were you with?" Blaine asked when they'd recovered from their mini-laughing fit. Both he and Kurt's mental ages had halved in their giggly mood.

"Urm-"

Suddenly, a voice came from Kurt and Finn's shared basement bedroom-a croaky-from-lack-of-sleep, _familiar_ voice:

"What? Where the hell am I?"

Simultaneously, Blaine and Kurt worked out who it was. Their eyes widening in surprise and shock, they pushed past Finn, who frantically tried to stop them, into the basement.

Collapsed on Finn's bed, still half-asleep and clearly as badly hung-over as Finn, was a tanned Jewish teen with a semi-ruined Mohawk.

In Finn's bed.

_Shirtless._

Puck's glazed-over eyes drifted-then snapped onto Kurt and Blaine, seeming to shock him awake.

"What-? What the freaking hell are you two doing here?" he tried to shout threateningly-but it came out a weak whisp. He grabbed at the cover and pulled it over his exposed chest hurriedly.

The guitarist and the countertenor could hold it in no longer. They fell into hysterical laughter. Puck was looking more and more freaked out.

"Where am I?" His voice was a fifth higher than usual, and you could tell in his mind he was coming to all sorts of conclusions. But it just made the two guys crack up harder.

Eventually, Finn sloped sheepishly in. "Hey…man," he said awkwardly to his best friend.

"_Finn_?" Then, it struck him. "Finn, why the hell am I in your bedroom?"

"I think the question is-" Kurt's voice cut off he was laughing so much. "I think the question is, what are you doing in Finn's bed?"

"In Finn's _what_?" Puck looked first enraged-then worried-then plain confused. "What the _bloody hell, _man?" he shouted at him.

Finn was looking more terrified by the minute as Kurt and Blaine were splitting their sides behind him. He began to try and explain: "You…you were totally paralytic last night…so I…carried you back here,"

"You _what_?" Puck seemed to be very fond of the word today. "How come I don't remember this?"

"You…" Finn was looking wildly around for a way out. "You were totally out of it, so…"

"You _slept_ together!" Kurt squealed, clutching his ribs. "In the _same bed_! And _you_ forbade _me_ to have Blaine in here overnight! You _hypocrite_!"

Finn's mouth fell comically open. Puck looked scandalised-then murderous.

"It-it wasn't like that, man! I-I was just as drunk as you!" the quarterback rushed frantically. "Stop laughing!" he shouted at his hysterical step-brother. "It's not funny!"

"Yes it is!" Kurt screeched, collapsing on his bed. He knew it was suicidal-but he couldn't help it: "_Finn and Noah sitting in the tree, K-I-S-S-I-_ouch!" he squeaked as Finn leaped on top of him, pressing a hand over his mouth. The countertenor fought free, gasping for air. "_N-G!" _he yelled triumphantly as Finn pushed his head down into a cushion.

"Be careful!" Blaine called from behind. "Please don't break him!"

"I make no promises," hissed Finn dangerously.

"So I slept in the same bed…as another _guy_?" Puck was looking at Finn disgustedly. "God, I need a shower!"

"It was only for a few hours!" Finn protested from pinning Kurt down. "We didn't get back 'til Kurt was gone!"

"A lot can happen in a few hours…" Blaine muttered, sniggering.

"You shut up!" Puck yelled at Blaine-only making him laugh more, so hard he couldn't breathe properly.

"Anyway, it was that or you sleep in Kurt's bed!" Finn pointed out, still holding down the struggling countertenor. "And you'd smell like girl,"

"I do NOT smell like girl!" Kurt squeaked adamantly, trying to grab onto Finn's wrists.

"Or there was always Mom and Burt's room!" Finn drawled sarcastically. But Puck looked interested.

"I could have slept with your mom?"

"Shut it, Puckerman!" Finn yelled.

"What's going on?" The door was opening-and Burt Hummel was greeted by the sight of one son on top of the other on the bed, one guy in a heap on the floor, laughing fit to burst, and another shirtless in the second bed, looking like he'd just been dragged backwards through a bush. Silence fell over the four Glee club guys as Burt stood speechless.

"Know what?" the mechanic finally said, when he'd recovered from the initial shock. "I'm not even going to ask," He left, muttering darkly under his breath, and closed the door behind him.

**Hope you like! More Anderson family drama to come! Thank you for reading ****J xxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! Thank you for sticking with me, sorry for the long wait since the last update, I've been stupidly busy with auditions and seeing Idina Menzel…(I'm still reeling with her amazingness!) xD **

**I hope it's clear when the speaker changes xD **

**Hope you enjoy, and pleas review if you want to! xDxxxx**

It wasn't often someone felt nervous and out of place walking up to the house they had lived for all of the seventeen-odd years they'd been alive-but Blaine had good cause. Somehow, as his Converse trainers crunched on the gravel of the long drive, each familiar step seemed to take forever. His feet felt heavy, like there were weights pulling him down, trying to stop him. And his insides felt like snakes.

After the long goodbye to Kurt at his house, he'd refused Kurt's offer to drive him home, even though it was quite a long walk and it was getting dark. He'd have stayed at Kurt's all night-but he just wanted to get this over with. To face his parents. Taking a deep breath, he got out his house key and, before he could hesitate, turned the lock.

Kurt carefully ironed his old Cheerios uniform ready for the first practise tomorrow at school. He _did_ look good in red. And so did Blaine. The countertenor's head still felt light, as it always did after spending time with his boyfriend, and as he glanced in the mirror, he saw that goofy smile on his face.

But despite all Blaine's re-assurances, he couldn't help but be concerned. He didn't have a clue what Blaine's parents would be like, after what happened this afternoon. Blaine didn't act nervous-but Kurt knew better. He knew Blaine liked to act like nothing scared him-save for spiders. But Kurt had seen the look in his eyes-that dreading look when you don't know quite what's going to happen next.

What if they kicked him out, or something? What if they _really_ hurt him? Kurt's hand itched towards the iPhone in his pocket. He should at least text him to make sure.

Hang it, he was phoning him.

Blaine stepped carefully into the large, spacious hallway and hung up his jacket on the now considerably emptier cloak stand. There was quietness-meaning all the relatives had left now. At least it would only be his parents he'd have to deal with. Which was probably worse.

Gingerly, he proceeded, trying to make as little noise as possible-and promptly tripped over the umbrella stand, sending all his mother's fancy parasols clattering to the floor. With a further loud crash, he ended up in a heap underneath the posh lamp near the door. Before he could feel too much like Tonks in _The Order of the Phoenix_, the living room door opened-and out came Grandma Lucy. Blaine swore he was never so happy to see anyone in his life-except maybe Kurt.

"Grandma?" He leaped to his feet. She was looking at him through her old, kind eyes.

"Oh, pet-" she started-but from behind her emerged Mr and Mrs Anderson. Blaine's heart dropped like a stone. Their faces were like thunder, lightning, and a light drizzle all at the same time. Somewhere in the anger there was-disappointment. Humiliation. Shame.

They stood in silence for a few moments, which felt like decades. Blaine couldn't seem to breathe properly.

It took him a few seconds to realise there were tears in his mother's heavily-made up dark eyes. He suddenly felt awful-she was his _mom_, as much as he despised her at this moment. He hated to make her cry. But he was not about to apologise for who he was.

Suddenly, Blaine's iPhone vibrated in his pocket. It made everyone jump, breaking the terrible silence like a bomb. Hurriedly, very aware of his parents watching him like hawks, Blaine took out the phone and tried to hit the reject button without even looking at the Caller ID-but he accidentally clicked speaker:

"Blaine?" came Kurt's high, musical voice, loud and clear in the echo-y room. "Blaine, are you there?"

The sound of his voice caused Blaine's heart to over-react as usual-but the feeling didn't last long as he panicked. He saw his parents listening intently, trying to work out if this could be-his hands weren't working properly as he tried to click End Call.

"Blaine, honey, if you're there…look, I just wanted to say that I love-"

Finally, he found the button and cut him off, feeling bad for doing it-but the looks on his parent's faces immediately made him forget. They looked shocked, scandalised, disgusted, acidic with anger. The way they were looking at him, at the phone…

"Look, why don't we all sit down with a cup of tea and-" Grandma began

"Lucy," Mr Anderson said, in his dark, monotone way, never taking his hazel eyes off his son. Blaine had never seen so much expression in his face in his whole life. "I want you to leave the hall. Now,"

"Don't speak to her like that!" Blaine rushed to his grandmother's defence.

"Blaine, there's no need-" Grandma was cut off again.

"Don't you take that tone with your father!" Mrs Anderson's voice was an octave higher than usual. A tear spilled down her cheek, spreading her blusher. It tugged at Blaine's heartstrings-but he pushed the feeling down determinedly.

"_Me_? Take a tone with my _father_? Did you hear the things he was saying to me earlier?" The words like daggers still stung Blaine.

"That is irrelevant!" Mrs Anderson's face was growing red.

"_Irrelevant_?" Blaine's voice was raising. "And all this because I have a boyfriend! A _boyfriend_! I'm not on drugs, I haven't been arrested, I haven't killed anyone. I just have a boyfriend!"

The word made his parents visibly shudder-but this just made him angrier. Mrs Anderson's tears still fell, and she muttered something illegible behind her hand. But what Mr Anderson muttered under his breath, Blaine heard:

"Just a phase,"

"No!" Blaine looked his father right in his cold eyes, feeling white-hot. "This is not a phase! I am gay! And I'm sorry if you don't like it-no, in fact I'm not! I don't care! I don't care what you think! But I am gay, and nothing you do will ever change that! And I have a boyfriend who I love, and if you don't like it, I don't care! I don't care!"

He was breathing hard.

There was a long, agonizing silence.

"Mercedes?"

"Hey, boy!" The sound of his best friend's cheerful voice on the phone almost brought a smile to his face. "How you doing?"

"I'm fine," Kurt tried to sound normal.

"Boy, you might as well have just said you're Beyonce,"

Mercedes could always see right through any façade. "You got me," he sighed.

"Uh, uh, uh, _hell_ to the no, it's that boy of yours, ain't it?" The girl was sharp.

"What's he done? If he's hurt you, I swear, I don't care if it's Christmas next month, I will deck him right in the halls-"

"No, he hasn't-well. He just-hung up on me," It sounded pathetic.

"_Hell_ to the no!" came the angry answer.

"No, no, it wasn't his fault! Don't go sending out a hit squad yet," Kurt looked out of the window, up at the darkening sky. He told Mercedes the whole story. He just needed to talk to someone. When he'd finished, the diva was silent for a few seconds. He heard her mutter a "_hell to the no_,"

"So he went home?" She sounded amazed.

"Yes. He-he said he didn't want to give them the satisfaction…"

"Well, he's got courage, I'll give him that,"

Kurt smiled a little at he and Blaine's word. "I really hope he's okay…I think telling them about me really brought it home to them that their son is gay,"

"He'll be fine. His folks'll get over it-I mean, he's their only son!"

The countertenor wasn't sure. From what he'd heard, the Andersons would prefer _no_ son to a gay one…

The fire was on, but Blaine shivered as he watched his grandmother make up a bed for him on her couch. He could tell she was sniffing back tears-as he was. There was an uncomfortable lump in his throat, but he swallowed hard. He would _not_ cry.

"There you go, love," Grandma Lucy tried to smile as she straightened up slowly, but it was far too shaky. "Are you sure you won't take my bed? I don't mind the sofa,"

"No, no, Grandma, this is fine," He sat down on the soft cover, feeling the old couch sag a little under his weight. He remembered when he was a kid, bouncing on the cushions for hours, and playing happily on the ancient rug that lay before him on the floor. It might be a small apartment-but it was so cosy and welcoming. It almost took the edge off the huge, agonizing pain in his heart that was a push away from over-whelming him altogether. He forced it down determinedly. "Thank you for letting me stay here, Grandma," he managed to tell her as she closed the heavy curtains, with some difficulty due to her depleting height.

"Oh, don't even mention it, dear, it's nothing, nothing at all," She closed the last gap and sat down on the sofa close beside him. "You can stay as long as you like-but I hope you don't have to,"

They both looked down to the floor, blinking back the threatening tears.

"Come on, love, give your gran a hug," She opened her arms and Blaine leaned into her, resting his head on her soft cardigan-d shoulder, drinking in her warm, clean smell. He was much taller than her now-but he felt like a child again, needing an adult to comfort him. Swallowing hard, he held onto her like a life-support. She held him tightly, like as was trying to hold him together, to top him completely falling apart. As she stroked his hair, Blaine heard her sniff. "It'll be okay. It's just the shock of it. They'll have you back,"

Blaine didn't know about that at all. Their last words to him clung like glue, spinning around his head like ugly vultures, screaming…

"I just can't believe my Nicole would…" She broke off. "But it will all be okay, love, I promise,"

Holding tighter, Blaine wished he was still young enough to believe an adult's promise was true, no matter what. He buried his face in her shoulder, blinking hard.

"Will you be going into school tomorrow? I won't make you,"

"No, no, I'll go in…" He remembered suddenly it was his first Cheerios practise after school tomorrow. Wow, Sue coming into the coffee shop seemed a lifetime ago…

"Alright love. You should get some sleep. I'll bring you some hot cocoa,"

Ten minutes later, Blaine had found the holey jogging pants and white vest top he wore in bed in the bag he'd hastily thrown together in the time his mother had allowed him to pack, and was curled up under the duvet on the friendly couch, the empty mug of hot chocolate beside him. Grandma Lucy tucked the covers around him and plumped the pillow like she did every time he stayed over out of habit, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"Try and sleep well, love. Don't think about today. Think about tomorrow, and the next day, and better times ahead. I love you, pet"

"Love you too, Grandma," he whispered, as she flicked off the light switch. He felt like she was the only family he had now. When she'd gone, in the darkness and the small glow of the extinguishing fire, Blaine saw his father's face. The last look he'd given him before Grandma Lucy had taken him out to the cab. Those eyes. They haunted him. His father needed no words to make him feel lost, unwanted, unimportant, disowned.

Oh, God, was this it? Had they disowned him completely?

Blaine felt like an orphan.

Turning over to face the back of the couch, Blaine shut his eyes-but he could not block out his father's voice in his head. That quiet, but deadly sound, those final words he'd said to him, the way they'd hit him like a meteorite:

_You are no son of mine._

_You are no son of mine._

_You are no son of mine…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, you wonderful people xD**

**Right, I've been told it's not clear when I change speaker, so chapters will now be shorter to only include Kurt or Blaine's narration when it originally followed right on to the next bit, but hopefully I'll update more frequently! xxD **

**Please review with any thoughts! PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxx**

"You think this is hard? Try trekking single-handedly across the Artic tundra in a bid to get caning re-introduced, that's hard! Sloppy! Sloppy!" Sue Sylvester shouted into her megaphone at the exhausted cheerleading squad. "Hit the showers!"

Kurt literally flopped down on the Astro-turf, feeling like his lungs were on fire. He'd forgotten how intense Miss Sylvester's cheerleading practises were. She was military-he doubted Finn at football practise across the field was being worked as hard. Watching Santana limp towards the girl's locker room, supported by Brittany, he hoped the coach wouldn't pull another crazy stunt like a canon again-because he was sure to be the one fired out of it.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. "Fifty press-ups, Hummel, and no slacking!"

Kurt squealed as his boyfriend began to tickle him. "Get off!"

"You think this is hard? Try skinning one hundred and one puppy-dogs and making a coat from their skins, that's hard!" Blaine's imitation of Sue was uncanny. "And stop that giggling, Fairy Princess, or you'll be fed to the sharks!"

"Get off, idiot!" Kurt squeaked, struggling to get away. "Fed to the sharks?"

"Or just the football team," Blaine persisted with the tickling, reducing Kurt to a helpless wreak. "Sloppy! Sloppy! Those had better be tears of joy!"

"Shut up, what if she can hear you!" Kurt had got to the stage where he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. He looked up at Blaine's amazingly handsome face, the way his thick, dark eyebrows intensified those golden eyes, the curve of his lips, the exotic mix of so many backgrounds that made him so stunning. His stiffly-gelled hair shone in the afternoon sun, but his eyes were their own stars. As Kurt looked into them, he was transported to his own personal idea of Heaven. Well, in Blaine's arms, he was there. "Blaine Anderson, you will be the death of me!"

Blaine stopped tickling him and wrapped his arms around him instead. Kurt leaned back into him, not caring who stared. They'd long since stopped bothering with the prejudices of their peers; they could think what they wanted. "That was a fun practise,"

Kurt's eyes widened. "Fun? If sweating like a dog and killing yourself doing leaps and high kicks for two hours is your idea of fun, I'm worried,"

"…Well, it takes your mind off stuff…" Blaine absent-mindedly played with a lock of Kurt's hair.

"…Nothing happened last night, did it?" Kurt asked suspiciously. His boyfriend hadn't mentioned it, so he hadn't brought it up all day. But he was concerned. Blaine paused.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said finally, flicking Kurt's arm lightly. The countertenor did not like his tone of voice. It was the sort adults used when telling children to "run away and play, dear,". But Blaine obviously didn't want it talked about. Well, as long as nothing major had happened…

"So will you come to mine tonight?" Kurt asked. "It might be good to keep out of their way for a bit. We'll go straight from school, yeah?"

"That sounds great-but…there are a couple of things I need to do tonight. Assignments. So can I come tomorrow instead?"

"Sure," Kurt smiled. "But be prepared for Finn to be there! Gosh, it might be awkward…"

"Isn't it funny how Finn lives in fear of finding a boy in _your_ bed one day…how ironic!"

Kurt giggled. "Indeed. Puck won't look at either of us-look, there he is!" He pointed to the mohawked teen, doing some football drill across the field. He glanced in their direction-then quickly looked away. Kurt began to wave wildly at him, so he couldn't ignore them. "Hi, Noah!" he called, before Blaine clamped a hand over his mouth. Even from here they could see the footballer blush, and he stuck two fingers up at them menacingly. Blaine and Kurt cracked up laughing,

"He will _kill_ you!" The guitarist pulled Kurt's hand down firmly. "You are deader than Professor Quirrell!"

"Oh well, you'd let me live on the back of your head, wouldn't you?"

"Hmm…" Blaine pretended to consider. The countertenor responded by punching him lightly on the arm. Blaine grabbed his wrist before he could hit him again, and kissed his hand, so softly it was barely more than a brush of his lips- but all the blood still left Kurt's head. Momentarily distracted, he smiled, and went to kiss him properly-

"Hey!" Sue shouted through the megaphone, making them both jump out of their skin. "Get a room!"


	6. Chapter 6

There were walls in Blaine's mind, as thick as anything-but cracked, like old china, so the feelings on the other side of the bricks came seeping through-and there was nothing he could do to repair them. So as he pushed the cart around the shop, he tried to put himself on some sort of auto-pilot to stop himself going insane.

It had been so hard. He hadn't slept all night; his mind was too hectic to shut down. He'd watched dawn seep through the curtains from the couch, bringing in the new day. A better day?

Grandma Lucy was so sweet. She'd come to wake him up at seven, getting up even though she didn't have to go to work until the afternoon. She made him breakfast, and chatted brightly to him, asking genuinely how he was, and sent him off to school with a smile and a packed lunch. Blaine had never in his life had a packed lunch; he'd always just been given a few dollars to buy a school meal, so he'd enjoyed the novelty of the carefully quartered sandwich and orange juice box, with a weird seedy cereal-yoghurt bar, apple and one of her amazing home-made brownies. It had felt a little elementary school, but he appreciated her effort so much.

He'd shared it with Kurt, who declared the brownie "outstanding!" but was none the wiser of it's maker. Blaine remembered carefully brushing away the dark chocolate crumbs that had stuck to his boyfriend's soft lips, and thinking about how he loved him so much…the sole reason for this façade was Kurt. Blaine would happily have curled up alone all day, talking to no one-but he didn't want to upset or worry Kurt. Blaine didn't want him to know what had happened with his parents yet-he just wasn't ready. So he'd spent the whole day acting, doing everything to seem fine, battling against the wave of depression that threatened to engulf him completely.

But now he was alone, it was harder. He'd insisted he'd at least do the shopping for Grandma tonight, so as he found the things on her list and collected them into the cart, he focused very hard on the task in hand and nothing else. Grandma was not the complaining sort, and she liked to be busy-that was why she hadn't retired yet. She liked looking after people, not the other way around. But Blaine was determined to help her in any way he could, to show a small part of his gratitude.

This didn't count as lying, did it? Lying to Kurt about having assignments? This was sort of an assignment, wasn't it? He could easily have gone to Kurt's tonight, but he felt bad leaving Grandma. When he told Kurt what had happened (he didn't know when or how), he could meet her, and Blaine was sure she'd love him. But for now, it was easier Kurt not knowing anything.

He felt awful about lying. Lies were enough to end a relationship, and he was terrified risking his perfect boyfriend-but he just couldn't tell him yet. Blaine guessed that it would make it far too real.

Hastily, he pushed the cart to the check out. Grandma had given him money, but he pulled out his own wallet. If he was staying there, it was only fair he paid for basics too.

God, that was so scary.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot as the girl scanned everything. She was taking her time. Awkwardly, he could sense she was checking him out.

"So you come here often?" she asked him, smiling prettily, a stud through her lip. Blaine tried his best to smile politely.

"Not really,"

He had no idea what he'd said that was so funny, but she started giggling, flicking her long side fringe. "Will you be coming here often in future?"

"Urm…possibly," The future was a terrifying prospect.

That set her off giggling again. She had an annoying laugh, but Blaine continued to smile politely. "My name's Elizabeth-well, Lizzie," She put out a hand, which Blaine shook obligingly. He smiled properly at the mention of that name.

"I know someone with Elizabeth as their middle name…it's lovely,"

"Well.." She batted her eyelashes at him. "My shift is over in fifteen minutes…and this shop has a very good coffee shop across the street…"

What to say here? This wasn't the first time he'd been in this situation, but it was still awkward. "Thank you, but…I don't think my boyfriendwould be too happy about that,"

"Oh," She looked disappointed, then embarrassed. "God, all the good ones are gay, or taken!"

"You'll find someone," He treated her to his best smile, the one he used to get around Kurt.

"_Blaine_?"

Heart stopping, Blaine spun around-and there was his boyfriend, coming towards him, looking really mad-and hurt. _Oh, hell_.

"What are you doing here?" The countertenor's voice was even higher than usual, and his cheeks had begun to flush pink- a sign he was really angry. "Was this why you turned me down tonight?" he demanded. Elizabeth's eyes were widening as she watched the drama unfold.

"Kurt, I-" he began.

"_Assignment_? Why didn't you just tell me you were shopping?" He glared at Elizabeth. "Is there a reason you didn't want me to know you were here?"

"No! No! Baby, how could you even think-?"

"Don't "baby" me! No, in fact, that's all anyone ever seems to do!" He looked icily at him. "What's with the sneaking around? Tell me the truth, Blaine,"

Blaine's hands were tied. What could he do? He looked into Kurt's blue-green eyes, fiery-but he could tell there were tears coming. Feeling terrible, he sighed. All he ever seemed to do was disappoint. "I'm shopping for my Grandma-"

"Oh, _yeah_, _sure_-"

"-I'm staying with her because my parents kicked me out last night," he finished bluntly.

Slowly, Kurt took in what he'd said.

The anger in his face vanished, and was replaced with shock. His mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes now brimming with tears. "What…?" he choked out.

"They kicked me out," It felt awful to say, as he'd feared-but somehow, not so bad. This was what was happening, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Why-why didn't you just tell me?" the countertenor stammered, looking at Blaine with wounded eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I know I should have told you-but…" He couldn't find the words to explain.

Luckily, Kurt understood. He pulled him into a close, comforting hug, trying to put a lot of unsaid things into it. Blaine held on tight, closing his eyes as he drank in Kurt's sweet smell, and forcing back the coming tears. There was no way he would cry. He rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, feeling warm and safe for the first time. All he needed was Kurt.

"Alright?" The countertenor's voice was thick, and from the drops of water falling onto Blaine's sweater, he was not so successful in holding back his tears. It endeared him even more to Blaine, who gently wiped his damp face.

"Hey, even when you've been…you know…you're still the one drying _my_ tears!" Kurt laughed weakly. He pulled him close again, giving him a soft kiss on the neck that gave Blaine a miniature heart-attack. "I'm so sorry, Blaine,"

"No, no, you've nothing to be sorry for," The guitarist took his hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Now. This is what's happened, and we can't change that-but we can make the best of it. And all I need to do that is…you…" He paused, grinning. "_And a rocketship_,"

"_What business do you have on Mars?_"Kurt quoted obligingly, giggling a little.

"Well…" Blaine was keen for the situation to remain light-hearted. He adopted a comic posh British accent. "My dear Mr Hummel, how would you like to come and meet my grandmother tonight?"

Kurt looked surprised. "Really?" Blaine was a little surprised himself, but he persisted.

"Indeed. She is simply _dying_ to meet you,"

"Well, in that case, I'd _love_ to meet her," Kurt beamed. "What time?"

"I'll drive you there now?" Blaine offered. But Kurt looked at him like he was insane.

"Look at me! I can't meet your grandmother in a _school_ ensemble!"

Blaine smiled fondly at his occasionally hare-brained boyfriend. "You look stunning,"

"No, Blaine, I do not. Oh my Gaga, I wore this belt _yesterday_! I have to go home and change first," Kurt was getting in such a little state, the guitarist couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay, baby, you go home and change first,"

The countertenor was calculating in his head. "So its half past four now…I'll come over at seven?"

"_Seven_? How long does it take…never mind. I'll text you her address,"

"Okay, sweetheart," Kurt gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and began to leave.

"Kurt?" Blaine called after him. He spun around like a professional dancer.

"Yes?"

"I love you,"

Kurt's smile widened, that adorable dimple flashing as his eyes went what Blaine could only describe as "gooey". "I love you too,"

They smiled at each other for a second, feeling mutually warm and nice, then, with a wave worthy of the Queen of England, the countertenor sashayed off like a model towards his car. Dizzily, Blaine leaned blissfully back against the counter, thinking how blessed he was to have Kurt…

"Why can't I get a date?" grumbled the shop assistant.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey Kurt, where are you? Did your wardrobe eat you? Bxxx_

_I am not lost…Kxxx_

_Meaning you are? Bxxx_

_Well…yes Kxxx_

_Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Bxxx_

_You do know that means "Why are you called Romeo?" as in "Why must you be a _

_Montague?" Kxxx_

_I try and be a little sweet and romantic, and this is what I get? Bxxxxx_

_Whatever xD Now, can you help me? I'm on Greenhill Street Kxxxxxxx_

_You're headed the complete wrong way xD Turn around towards Woodward Avenue, carry on there for a bit, then make a left turn onto Eden Close Bxxxxxxxx_

_Okay xD Kxxxxxxxxx_

_You're not texting while driving, are you? Bxxxxxxxxxx_

_No, I'm pulled over xD Honey, you don't have to try to save me from death every thirty seconds xD Sweet as you are Kxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Just looking out for my man xD Bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Okay, I'm going to start driving now Kxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Okay, see you in a minute. Bye Bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Bye _

_Bye _

_The amount of kisses are getting ridiculous _

_Meh. _

_Okay, I really am pulling out now. Stop texting if you want me to survive all the way to your grandmother's house xD _

__

_Okay xD _

__

_I will win this competition xD _

__

_Why not just give me the kisses when you see me? _

__

__

Kurt smiled, shaking his head at the last text as he reluctantly put down his phone, pulled out and started to drive in the right direction. He looked in the wing mirror-and saw his face was in a stupid, mindless, loved-up smile-the face he'd named "The Blaine Face". Laughing a little at himself, he drove down long roads. Never having been to this part of town before, he was glad of Blaine's directions, otherwise he would have been hopelessly lost. It was-well, it wasn't the nicest part of town. But Kurt tried not to judge the litter and graffiti as he navigated the semi-dark streets.

Much as he tried to stay cool on the outside (and hell, he did look cool. His outfit was brand new and designer head to foot), his stomach was full of huge butterflies, some of them in hob-nailed boots. He was hugely nervous about meeting his first member of Blaine's family. Kurt really hoped she'd like him, as they'd hopefully be in-laws some day…_shut up, brain! _he inwardly scolded himself.

Turning onto Woodward Avenue, the nerves really started to kick in, biting at him like a hoard of locusts. What was this? He was _Kurt Elizabeth Hummel_! He'd sang on a Broadway stage! He'd confronted the scariest bully he'd ever encountered! He'd boldly set his father up with the mother of his ex-crush! He stood up to _Rachel Berry _in arguments!

And now he was terrified about meeting an old lady.

_Courage_

As if he'd saved that text from so long ago…

Driving onto Eden Close, the address of the apartment in which Blaine's grandmother (and now Blaine himself) dwelled, he forced the fear down and parked neatly outside the tall block of flats which he hoped was the correct one. Ah yes, Rosewood House. This was it. Oh, _hell_, this was it.

Stepping out of the car, locking the doors and straightening his clothes, Kurt took in his surrounds. Hmm. Not quite Buckingham Palace, but there you go. It was more than a little shabby-but it didn't seem dangerous. Nevertheless, Kurt walked very fast into the building, closing the door behind him.

He was in a narrow hallway, painted what must once have been white, but was now a sort of very pale green. The flat number was 10G, so he'd need the seventh floor? Wait, if A was the ground floor, the sixth? Yes, the sixth. Cautiously, he stepped into the lift and pressed the number six. The doors slid shut, and the elevator began to ascend slowly.

He wished it was quicker. The life didn't _smell_ of urine, as he'd feared, but it was still pretty unpleasant. However, the inching up only allowed his nerves to build up more and more, until he felt like they'd burst.

On the third floor, the elevator stopped, the doors jerking open to allow whoever had called it to enter-and as the person was revealed- Kurt almost gave a squeak of shock.

There was a teenage boy, rather tall and of a larger, muscled build, wearing a red jock jacket and a blue baseball cap-David Karofsky.

The bully had not spoken to Kurt since the prom, and avoided his eye-contact at school. He no longer pushed Kurt into lockers-and certainly hadn't attempted another kiss-but merely did not acknowledge Kurt's existence at all-particularly since Blaine had come to the school. It was better that way.

Karofsky's face as he realised it was Kurt was a picture-but he quickly smoothed his features into a blank expression. Clearly, he hesitated-then got into the lift beside him.

This time last year, this would have been Kurt's worst nightmare. Alone in a lift with Karofsky.

Instinctively, Kurt went to move further away-but Karofsky was already trying to make the distance between them as large as possible, trying not to look at him. It was almost as if _he_ was the one who had a reason to be scared. He stared determinedly at the floor, fists clenched.

The elevator crawled up, seeming even slower now.

"Hi,"

The countertenor's head snapped up at the sudden greeting from the jock. Karofsky still wasn't looking at him, but had clearly spoken. "…Hi," he said cautiously back.

"How are you?" His voice was unnervingly monotone.

"Fine. And…how are you?" This was getting more awkward by the second.

"Not bad," Karofsky seemed very interested in the bottom left hand corner of the lift.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Still in Glee club?"

"Yes…" Kurt answered, keeping his voice polite. "Still…playing football?"

"Yeah…You're on the Cheerios now?"

"Indeed…" Kurt shot a sideways glance at him. His hands were now clasped together in front of him, almost-_shyly_?

"Cool…and…whatshisname is too…?"

"Blaine…" Kurt told him nervously, twisting a lock of his newly-washed hair around a slender finger.

"Blaine…" Karofsky repeated, spelling out each letter in his voice. There was another awkward silence as the lift edged to the fifth floor.

"You look nice,"

Kurt almost gasped out loud with shook. Eyes widening, he stared at the jock-who was still gazing at the floor-but his cheeks were turning red. _Karofsky _paying him a compliment? Karofsky _blushing_? The world has officially gone insane. Next Miss Sylvester would re-home lost rabbits and Miss Pillsberry would go mud-wrestling. Seriously, this was messed up.

Karofsky was obviously wishing he'd said nothing, turning brighter scarlet by the second.

"T-Thank you," Kurt tried, trying to stay polite.

"'S'okay,"

Looking up at the ceiling, Kurt willed the lift to go faster.

Finally, it jiggered to a halt on the sixth floor. The countertenor practically ran through the doors in his haste to get away.

"Bye," came Karofsky's voice as they shut. Kurt waited until it had gone-then allowed himself a huge sigh of relief, not realising his heart had been racing. That was…weird. _Karofsky_ saying he looked nice? Then _blushing_? And politely saying goodbye? He'd never said that to Kurt, without adding "lady" or something worse. That was just plain bizarre…

Reflected in the long window beside the elevators, Kurt checked his reflection. Oh my Barbra, did these jeans make his butt look big? He couldn't tell properly, and of course there was no one around to ask (Well. Kurt was apprehensive about asking anyone that question after the look his father had given him when he was ten). Oh no, the whole _outfit_ was wrong, the shoes were wrong, his hair was wrong, everything was _wrong_. No wonder a Neanderthal jock thought he looked nice, he looked disastrous. Oh, hell, tonight of all nights!

There was nothing he could do about that now. Even Alexander McQueen must have had off-days, right? He'd have to make do, make an excuse if someone asked. Taking a deep, calming breath, Kurt flicked his hair for luck, and proceeded, head held high, towards Flat 10G.

**As always, thank you so much for reading, and a HUGE Hummelberry high-five-handshake to the wonderful Heather! Love you, twin! XD **

**Please review! XD Next chapter soon! **

**Spoiler-it may get worse for Blaine…:'( **

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello xD Right, here s Chapter Eight! Hope you enjoy, and review, review, review!** **: )**  
><strong>WARNING: Lots of Klainebows here-I am not responsible for any vomiting or cavities : )<strong>

For the five thousandth time, Blaine got up off the sofa and began to pace around the room anxiously.

"You look like a cat," came Grandma s voice from the kitchen. "Why not relax a little, love?"

Actually, Blaine could not explain that himself. Why should he be nervous? This was just the two most special people to him in the world meeting. But this was a crucially important evening for him, and he just wanted everything to go swimmingly. He knew Grandma delighted in embarrassing him, like all grandmas. But she d be on her best behaviour tonight-she knew how much this meant to him. Didn't she? He knew Grandma did baby him quite a lot, but then Kurt was very much the baby of his family...

Kurt wasn t judgemental-but what if he didn't like the flat? His taste was very up-market and posh, what if he didn t like the cosiness of the apartment? He wouldn't _say_ anything-but Blaine didn t want him to go away thinking badly.

Oh God, he'd anticipated Kurt being fashionably late, and he knew he'd got lost, but he wished he'd hurry up. The waiting was agony. For Blaine, this was the "introducing the boyfriend to the family" moment. And what they said was true-no matter how lovely the family was, it was still the most nerve-wracking experience.

Well, less so than it would have been if Kurt were meeting Blaine's_ parents..._

"Alright, pet?" Grandma put her head around the kitchen door. Bless her, she'd changed into her best pink sweater and newest trousers, fixed her hair and even put make-up on-which she never did. She looked five years younger. Blaine felt a rush of affection for all the effort she'd made.

"Fine. Thank you so much, Grandma," He smiled gratefully at her. She smiled back-but her eyes were sad.  
>"It's my pleasure. It's...it's just <em>I<em> shouldn t be the one to meet your boyfriend first..."

Blaine knew what she was getting at, and appreciated her Irish frankness, but it was still a bit of a blow to him. They had not mentioned his parents at all in the last roughly twenty-four hours since he'd, ahem, left home. He sighed a little. "I know but...I'm glad it s you,"

Grandma's face lit up, like he'd made her whole day. "I'm glad too, love," She at down on the couch, and the guitarist sank beside her, fidgeting at little.

"I'm dying to meet him, she beamed excitedly.

"I can t wait for you to. You're going to love him," Blaine checked the old clock on the wall. Kurt was officially fifteen minutes late. Now, ten Kurt considered fashionably late and twenty he considered rude, so any minute now.

"So?" Grandma s face suddenly relaxed into that of a gossipy teenage girl. "What's he like?"

Blaine grinned, looking down to his lap. "He's..." Suddenly, there was a smart, precise knock on the door. The guitarist shot up to his feet. "Well, you'll see for yourself!" He dashed keenly down the hall- but caught himself just in time, and counted to five before finally opening the door.

Blaine could usually find a song to describe every feeling he ever had-his brain was like an android iPod, starting to play appropriate music in any situation. Often several songs came to mind at once, forming an epic mash-up. But that moment when he opened the door and saw his boyfriend, just one song began to play. And it was perfect.

Kurt stood, smiling a little shyly, on the doorstep, with those adorable dimples very prominent on his porcelain cheeks. His blue-green ocean-like eyes were shining with innocence and hope, looking at Blaine like a devoted puppy-dog. For the first time in a while, Blaine saw a flash of the little boy he d met on the stairs at Dalton for the first time, about a whole year ago. He couldn t believe it had only been that long, that this person had only been in his life twelve months. It seemed like a lifetime-a wonderful lifetime. The best. Blaine found himself falling in love all over again with his beautiful countertenor.

Kurt s hair was carefully styled as it had been when they'd shared their first kiss over Pavarotti (rest in peace) s bejewelled casket, in a sort of quiff, and it looked incredible. His clothes were exquisite- but Blaine wouldn t have cared what he wore. A snowy white coat (that looked suspiciously feminine- but according to Kurt, fashion has no gender) with a white belt tied at the waist, the tightest black skinny jeans Blaine had ever seen him wear, and black boots laced up to the knee. A usual, he looked like he had stepped right off a runway. There was silence for a second as Blaine just took the vision in. His heart had melted into a pleasant warm liquid that glowed like the sun. Catching his breath, he looked at Kurt s cherry-chapsticked lips, in that beautiful, adorable smile-and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulled him close and kissed him lovingly.

The song: ..._Hey baby, I think I want to marry you_

It was magic. Blaine's soul soared above the stars, racing the moon, flying out to the most distant galaxies. He'd thought he would have been used to it by now, but was delighted to discover he was a long way off that. The kiss was long, slow and meaningful-Blaine treasured every second. Their kisses seemed to get more amazing every time. He wanted to stay there forever, for every moment to last millennia, for time to stop completely so they were forever frozen in a perfect world of their own...

Suddenly, Kurt froze. Reluctantly, Blaine opened his eyes-and they widened with surprise and guilt as they focused on Grandma, who'd come into the hall and was watching them.

_Well done, man_, Blaine inwardly congratulated himself. _Snog your boyfriend's face off in front of your grandmother_. He felt his face turning magenta. Kurt's cheeks were flushing pink rapidly, making him look even more like a china doll. In any other situation, Blaine would have found this endearing-but now, he was having a silent panic attack. _Oh, smooth, man, you ve messed this up already..._

"Err...Grandma, this is Kurt Hummel...?" he tried, trying to sound normal. Unsuccessfully.

"...Urm...Good evening, Mrs O Malloy!" the countertenor squeaked politely, his eyes full of trepidation.

To both boy s surprise, and relief, Grandma Lucy just looked amused. "Lucy," she said, smiling warmly. "It's lovely to meet you at last, Kurt,"

Blaine almost passed out with assuagement, thanking Dumbledore. And from the slight deflating in his arms, Kurt had just let go of a very agonizing breath.

"Now, put him down, Blaine, and you can both come through," Winking, she headed back through to the living room, shaking her head.

"Oh my Mrs Weasley," Blaine crashed his head down onto Kurt s shoulder. "I thought that was it!"

"Me too!" Kurt whispered back. "Wow, your grandma s Irish! She has an actual Irish accent!"

Unwillingly untangling himself from his boyfriend, Blaine pushed that awkward moment behind them. He took Kurt's coat, hanging it carefully up on the peg in the hall. Underneath, he was wearing a white close-fitting t-shirt with a black waistcoat, a bright red flower carefully pinned to it. He looked stunning, as usual-but Blaine never found anything usual about Kurt. And that was one of the things he loved most.

"Come on, you, let us proceed,"

Kurt seemed a little shy and reluctant still, but he followed Blaine down the hall into the living room. Well, it was a living room-cum-dining room, and pretty small-but very tidy, and immaculately clean. Blaine had cleared all his bedding from the couch and carefully arranged the throw and cushions so it looked out of a magazine. He'd dusted the huge bookshelf, packed full of novels of every genre, and dusted everywhere so there was not a single cobweb. The fire was on, providing a pleasant, homely heat, and the TV (which still only had a video player) was totally free of dust. It really looked great.

Carefully, Kurt looked around the room, taking it in. Blaine held his breath.

"It's lovely," Kurt smiled. "Really, it is,"

_ Yes!_ Blaine grinned, inwardly happy dancing. _Result!_  
>Kurt looked politely around, noting the old-fashioned phone and large collection of Blaine s old Disney videos in the cabinet. "Hey, is that you?" The countertenor suddenly made a beeline for a photograph stuck on the wall. Before Blaine could stop him: "Woah, are they all you?"<p>

Kurt was stood before what Blaine had always called "The Photo Wall" . There were endless pictures of him, aging from a few days old until just six months ago. Since he was thirteen, Blaine had detested it-he wasn t one for photos-but Grandma loved logging his life. Everyone s in fact. There were a million photo albums in her bedroom, and the dreaded camera itself stood readily on the shelf.  
>"<em>Aww<em>!" Kurt was looking at one of the earliest shots of him, when he was about three months old. This was one he particularly hated. "You're so cute!" The countertenor was _gushing_ over it. "Look at your little _face_!"

"Oh no. Step away from the pictures,"

There was a short shoving match, which Kurt triumphantly won, and he continued browsing. Blaine begrudgingly followed him as he examined the museum of Blaine Anderson, including drawings and school papers framed on the wall.

"Oh my Gaga, look at you!" Kurt pointed to a photo of a three-year-old Blaine on Halloween, dressed as Tigger from Winnie The Pooh. Complete with false stripy ears on his dark curls.

"Scary factor zero," Blaine raised his eyebrows.

"Cute factor ten and a half! _Aww_, look, you even had your face painted!" Kurt pinched the current Blaine s cheeks, clearly enjoying the humiliation of his boyfriend. "Who's a little cutie, then?"

"I'm going to your house and hunting for photos of you,"

"Whatever. Aww, look!" Kurt dragged him over to a photo of a seven-year-old Blaine with a children's-size guitar, dressed as Harry Potter. "I think we can call this photo a prophecy!"

"Haha," Blaine laughed sarcastically.

"You did like your dressing up-but I have to say my childhood dressing-up clothes were way better,"

"I bet they were..."

"Oooh! Look at this one!"

This went on for about ten minutes as Kurt scoured the wall for the most mortifying photos there was. He was certainly having fun, even if Blaine wasn't.

"I have that photo in my locker," Kurt gestured to Blaine s last school picture at Dalton.

"I know," Blaine took his hand.

"Stalker," Kurt smiled lightly, squeezing it back. He studied a first-grade drawing, a red scribble shakily labelled Grandma . Blaine had never understood why, but this was one of Grandma's most treasured possessions.

"That's sweet," Kurt approved.

"I was hardly Picasso," the guitarist grinned.

"You're fantastic now,"

"Really? When have you seen me draw?" Blaine was surprised. How did he know? His drawing was sort of his little secret.

Kurt simply smiled knowingly. "I have my sources..."

It took a second-then- "_Wesley_!"

"Why are you embarrassed? They're really, really good! I'm glad he showed me them,"

"Was that the rehearsal where you'd all locked me in a cupboard?"

"Yeah, that one,"

"Oh," Blaine didn't know how he felt about his secret being out there-knowing the Warblers, half the town would know by now...but it was done now. Oh well.

"Hey, draw me!" Kurt said suddenly, grinning. Blaine pretended to tut.

"_Draw me_..." Actually, that wasn't a bad idea...

"Blaine, love, will you give me a hand with the food, please?" came Grandma s voice from the kitchen.

"Sure," Blaine was glad to get away. Kurt made to follow, but Blaine halted him. "No. Sit," He gently pushed him down onto the couch.

"I'd like to help-" Kurt protested.  
>"I'll take care of it, baby...now, you sit!" Blaine leant down and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "Back before you know it!" He turned on his heel and came to the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Grandma was plating up the Thai vegetable curry she d made.<p>

"So? What do you think of him?" Blaine chirruped hopefully.

"I don't like him,"

Everything inside Blaine shattered. His face fell, his heart sank, his brain whirred with endless questions. "Wh-"

And that s when he noticed the mischievous grin on the old woman's face. "Oh, Blaine, I wish I had my camera!"

"_Grandma_!" Blaine moaned. After the shock, he was knitting back together like a jigsaw. _Phew_.

Grandma laughed, ruffling his hair. "I'm joking, love, I'm joking. He seems like a lovely lad, very sweet. A bit shy!"

Blaine almost snorted at Kurt being described as "shy"!

"He's very handsome-looking, isn t he?"

"He s beauti-I mean, yeah," Blaine finished quickly, looking down a little. Grandma still cottoned on, laughing again.

"Bless you, pet, you deserve a lovely boyfriend," Her hand paused again his cheek, stroking it a little. "He looks like a doll, doesn't he? He's adorable,"

"Yes, he is," Blaine agreed, smiling. "In all senses of the word..."

Two minutes later, the three of them were sat around the table, getting on like a house on fire. Kurt relaxed with Grandma's friendly, kind persona, but he was still a little quiet. Blaine knew he was terrified of accidentally saying the wrong thing and screwing up. It was cute, really, and endearing, the countertenor just smiling as he listened genuinely to Grandma chatting happily. Under the pristine table cloth, Blaine reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. From the corner of his eye, he knew Grandma had noticed-but she just grinned to herself, looking pleased. He guessed she was glad to see him elated for once. Well, that was an understatement. He was ecstatic, delighted, sparkling. He was walking on air. With the two people he loved most in the world, nothing could have made him more blessed.

As the evening wore on, after both boys had been forced to have seconds of everything, Kurt comfortably rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, giggling at a funny story of Grandma's. The guitarist wasn t really listening-he just watched his boyfriend, the angelic, fascinating face, ivory fair and perfect. He took a moment just to think about everything he adored about his celestial love. Putting his arm around his slim shoulders, Blaine realised, even with the situation with his-he used the term loosely-_parents_-his life could not be any more wonderful.

Late that night, Grandma Lucy finally put her novel down, removed her reading glasses, and got into bed, switching off the lamp on the little table at her bedside. Kurt had left at around eleven, thanking her very much for everything, and Blaine s converse had not touched the floor. It was so lovely for her to see him so happy, after everything that had happened. Straining her ears, she could just about hear her grandson s gentle breathing as he slept down the hall-peacefully, contentedly, not restless, fitful short bursts as it had been last night. It was a relief for him to find some peace of mind, so she could too. Blaine meant more to her than anything, and it hurt so much to see him so destroyed. But tonight, he d rebuilt a little.

She adored Kurt-anyone who loved her grandson as much as he plainly did was good with her. More than good. She d seen the way Blaine looked at him, like he was an archangel, and the way Kurt looked at Blaine with those heart-breakingly adorable eyes, the way they were together. It reminded her of how she d been, all those years ago, with her late Michael...

Grandma Lucy had a feeling that she d just met her future grandson-in-law. And she was usually right .


	9. Chapter 9

** Hey everyone! As always, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy! **

** Disclaimer: I do not own anything; Glee, or any part of Disney. As Starkid would say: "We don't wanna, we don't wanna be sued…"**

** Please review! Thank you :') Next chapter soon!**

** Spoiler: Owch!**

** PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxx**

When it came to Glee club rehearsals, you could usually tell in the first ten minutes what sort of rehearsal it would be. Moods of the often rather over-the-top and theatrical Glee clubbers were generally immediately obvious as soon as they walked/stormed in. Today-for once-everyone seemed pretty mellow. Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez were sat giggling together over something on Santana's phone (and they thought no one had guessed). Artie Abrams and Tina Cohen-Chang were in deep conversation, while Mike Chang looked a little left out, doing an impressive foot-shuffle routine in his seat. Rachel Berry was sat at the piano, singing scales to warm up, reaching notes no one thought humanly possible. Quinn Fabray was sat on her own, her iPod plugged in, and her glossy lips moved slightly along with the words. Blaine was teaching Mr Schue some guitar riff, and Puck and Finn were at opposite ends of the room, avoiding eye contact.

Kurt was carefully checked his hair in a small hand mirror. Something very weird had happened as he as walking to the choir room. The corridor had been empty, as he'd been a little late leaving class, and the only other person, walking the other way, was Karofsky. Out of habit, Kurt looked at the wall, avoiding eye contact so as not to provoke him, but all of a sudden, he'd heard a shy: "Hey,"

What was going on with that guy? He and Kurt were sort of indifferent nowadays, but all at once, the jock had started being nice? The "Hey" sounded genuine and everything, and it wasn't followed by "fag" or something worse. What was that dude getting at?

"Alright, everyone, settle down!" Mr Schue called, and gradually everyone sat down in the seats, getting out sheet music and the chatter died down as the teacher stood at the front, facing them, guitar in hand. Kurt always noticed what a different person Schue was when he was teaching Spanish, and when he was directing Glee club. He knew which Schue was merely a good teacher, and which was utterly convivial in what he was doing. "Okay, guys-sit down, Puck-this week's project," The teacher walked over to the board, taking up a blue pen. He wrote the word "Disney" in big letters. There was a mixed, but generally positive outbreak of murmuring. Kurt gave a little whoop-he loved Disney. Blaine caught his eye and grinned.

"Good, I can see you guys are pretty enthusiastic!" Schue turned back to them. "Now, everyone loves a classic Disney musical-it's always a hit with audiences. I'd like all you guys to choose a Disney song to perform next week-"

Rachel had shot her hand up. "Mr Schue, I'd like to claim "Colours Of The Wind" from Pocahontas as my song,"

"Uh, uh, uh, hell to the no," came Mercedes' voice, sounding annoyed. Sensing a diva-off by the look on both girl's faces, Schue quickly intervened.

"Why don't you sing it as a duet? You two tore apart "Take Me Or Leave Me,"

"True," agreed Rachel. "I'm prepared to sing with Mercedes if she is,"

"Bring it," Suddenly the best of friends, the two girls nodded in agreement, smiling at each other.

"Mr S?" Artie put a hand up. "Don't shoot me!" he said sheepishly. "I have no idea of any Disney songs,"

There were gasps; Kurt clapped a hand to his mouth.

"No, no, that's alright, Artie," Mr Schue told everyone firmly.

"Mr Schuester?" Blaine had stood up, looking at Artie. "Why don't you allow Kurt and I to demonstrate?"

The countertenor beamed excitedly at his boyfriend, who subtly winked back. But the resident diva wasn't done.

"Mr Schuester, I do all demonstrations!" Rachel sounded agitated, looking at Schue with big, appealing eyes. Barely, but definitely, Kurt saw Mr Schue roll his eyes a little.

"Let's give Kurt and Blaine a chance for once?"

With a smile, Kurt sprang up and swept down to the piano to join his boyfriend. Blaine was giving the pianist, who was handily always close by, instructions on the key, then turned to Kurt as the familiar introduction started up. It was the obvious choice-a little predictable-but Kurt loved it. Letting Blaine lead him centre stage, he looked into those drop-dead hazel eyes, allowing himself to swoon a little. He distinctly heard an "awh,", probably from Mercedes, and let his smile broaden, as Blaine's did as, in that beautiful velvety voice, the guitarist began to sing directly to Kurt:

_ "I can show you the world_

_Shining shimmering splendid _

_Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?"_

Gently taking Kurt's hands in his, Blaine's eyes shone as he sang, looking at Kurt adoringly. The countertenor wasn't sure if he was just in character as Aladdin, but had a feeling he wasn't. Kurt didn't to act as Jasmine at all. He just let Blaine's voice work it's magic.

_ "I can open your eyes_

_Take you wonder by wonder_

_Over, sideways, and under on a magic carpet ride…_

_A whole new world…" _

Blaine reached up a hand and carefully stroked Kurt's cheek, causing the countertenor to have a mini heart-attack.

_ "A new fantastic point of view_

_No one to tell us "no", or where to go-"_

The guitarist gently pulled Kurt closer as his voice became stronger.

_ "Or say we're only dreaming…"_

_ "A whole new world…"_

Kurt's beautiful voice rang out like silver bells, his sweet, pure falsetto contrasting wonderfully. He gazed into Blaine's eyes as he sang with all his heart.

_ "A dazzling place I never knew_

_But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear…"_

He carefully stroked Blaine's perfect dark hair, their faces inches from each other.

_ "That now I'm in a whole new world with you…"_

_ "Now I'm in a whole new world with you…" _

Blain's voice interjected, harmonizing wonderfully. Suddenly, he spun Kurt across the room. Kurt felt like he was gliding on air.

_ "Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings_

_Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky_

_A whole new world…"_

_ "Don't you dare close your eyes…" _

Blaine twirled him around and around until the room was a blur of colour and music.

_ "A hundred thousand things to see…"_

_ "Hold your breath, it gets better…"_

Kurt, although his breath control was perfect, felt breathless as he and Blaine flew around the choir room, barely aware of their surroundings.

_"I'm like a shooting star, I've come so far_

_I can't go back to where I used to be…"_

Smoothly, Blaine took over the tune as Kurt interjected, voices blending stunningly.

_ "A whole new world…"_

_ "Every turn a surprise…"_

_ "With new horizons to pursue…"_

_ "Every moment red letter…"_

Stopping spinning, Blaine held Kurt close in his arms, as they sang the next few lines together. Beside his designer shirt, Kurt could feel his boyfriend's heart beat against his own.

_"I'll chase them anywhere, there's time to spare_

_Let me share this whole new world with you…"_

Much softer now, Blaine sang, his forehead gently pressed to Kurt's.

_"A whole new world…"_

_ "A whole new world…" _

Kurt sang breathily, the feeling of euphoria dizzying him.

_"That's where we'll be…"_

_ "That's where we'll be…"_

_ "A thrilling chase…" _

Tenderly, the guitarist held Kurt's face in his hands, now so close Kurt could taste the honey-musk of his breath.

_"A wondrous place…"_

_ "For you and me…"_

Finishing the song in unison, hearts racing the moon, they stopped as the outro played on the piano. Kurt swore it had never sounded that good before. Though he had left the earth behind long ago. If he'd have really been on a magic carpet, he couldn't have been closer to the stars.

Abruptly, applause and cheering broke the vision. Kurt was thrust back into the real world, the bland, boring choir room, where the Glee club clapped wildly. Mercedes and Rachel were actually on their feet.

"Eat your heart out, Lea Salonga?" Kurt squeaked, surprised at the amazing reaction. Even Puck and Finn looked like they enjoyed it.

With a small, slightly awkward laugh, Blaine loosened his grip on his boyfriend, but not letting go completely. "Well…something like that…" he said modestly.

"Wow, I missed out!" Artie grinned. "I would totally give you guys a standing ovation, but…anyway, Blaine, if you can play Tony as well as you just performed, you should get a Tony! No pun intended…" he added quickly.

Mr Schue applauded warmly. "That is exactly what this project is about. Disney is about being transported to another magical world, and that's precisely what you just did. Great job, guys,"

"Wow, you guys owned that!" Santana looked surprised at how much she liked it.

"Yay dolphins!" Brittany whooped.

"Outstanding," Rachel approved. "Although I would have directed it differently…"

"I have to say, that was one of the most genuine performances I've ever seen," Mr Schue commented. "Your acting was incredible,"

"I don't think they were acting!" Mercedes grinned, shaking her head. "_Awh_, you guys!"

Beaming, Kurt let Blaine lead him by the hand back to their seats together at the back. They'd never felt more comfortable as a couple.

But, out of the corner of his eye, the countertenor noticed a figure at the door. A figure in a red jacket similar to Finn's, with a McKinley "M", looking in, watching.

David Karofsky.

As he realised he'd caught Kurt's eye, he quickly sped off, out of sight. Kurt felt quite shaken up. What was he _doing_ there? Surely he wasn't thinking of _joining_ Glee club, maybe?

"You were amazing, baby, as always," Blaine whispered in his ear, squeezing his hand. "Hey-what's wrong?" He snapped into concerned mode.

Was there any point telling him? "…Oh, it's just…I just saw Karofsky outside…"

Suddenly, Blaine's face was livid. "Did do anything to you?" he asked urgently.

"No, no…but…" Kurt found himself telling Blaine about the incident in the lifts at the block of flats. "…and then he said I looked nice, I mean-"

The countertenor stopped as Blaine was looking menacingly down the floor. Kurt could almost see his brain working, figuring something out. "Blaine?"

The guitarist was a long way away from the person Kurt had just sang with. He looked outraged, exasperated. For some reason, he looked like he had just discovered something, put two and two together. Something he didn't like.

"Blaine? It's okay. I'm okay!" Kurt tried to bring him out of it. He was worried at how suddenly fiery those golden eyes were.

"I'm fine," Blaine said, monotone. He held Kurt's smaller hand in both of his, quite tightly. "You don't worry. I'm going to sort this out…"

**Duff, duff, duff, duff, duff, d-d-duff…**


	10. Chapter 10

Blaine had been through a lot in the past few days-that went without saying-but this was the final straw. As he walked out of school, after the long goodbye to Kurt, and began the journey on foot back to Grandma Lucy's, he felt fiery flames of anger bursting in his chest, threatening to explode out.

He'd actually suspected it for a while-but this was proof. This was hard evidence.

David Karofsky fancied his boyfriend.

How _dare_ he! How _dare_ he, after all he'd put Kurt through? This guy had made Kurt's life hell, forced him into a different school, threatened to _kill_ him-and now he had a _crush_ on him?

Don't get him wrong, Blaine was all for love-but this was just-just-Blaine couldn't think of a word. He knew Kurt was still utterly unsuspecting of it-and thank God, because it would scare the life out of him. How _dare _Karofsky fancy his boyfriend?

Hold on. Was this what _jealous_ felt like?

Blaine thought he wasn't a possessive boyfriend. When they were out together, he often saw men _and_ women checking Kurt out-and that never really bothered him. It just made him prouder that Kurt was on _his_ arm. But Karofsky was a different story. Suddenly, Blaine felt so protective over Kurt, even more than usual-if his boyfriend got hurt in any way by this bastard, Blaine swore he would grind him to dust.

Turning a corner, Blaine found he was walking faster than usual. Karofsky would hurt Kurt again over his dead body. He gripped the strap of his bag with both hands as he made his way through the streets, past old ladies and groups of kids, overtaking shops and endless cars parked along the side of the road. It was a fairly cold day-but Blaine felt burning hot, his pace gradually quickening as he crossed town.

This morning, when he'd seen Karofsky walking alone through the school, he'd actually felt sorry for him. Poor confused guy, pushing everyone away. Now, he couldn't believe he'd wasted pity on him, when all the time he converted his boyfriend. He loathed the idea of Karofsky staring at Kurt-oh God, kissing him again. It made him feel physically nauseated.

This guy had damn near ruined Kurt's life. And he was not about to try it again on Blaine's watch.

Expediting down the maze of crowded roads, Blaine's thoughts paused. He wasn't sure what he should actually _do_. He would love to beat him so hard his guts spewed out of his eyes-but that was a bit extreme, even Blaine had to admit. He of all people knew Kurt was beautiful-irresistible, really. So it was only natural other people admired him-Karofsky probably wasn't the only one either. But Karofsky was different. He was dangerous. If he hurt Kurt in any way, Blaine would tear his head off his shoulders.

Finally, he reached Grandma's block of flats and got into the lift, stabbing the buttons and jumping up and down with impatience as the lift edged up. It was so slow. Blaine just wanted to get back and play his guitar as loud and furiously as he could while he figured out what to do. Grandma wouldn't be home yet, she was still working at the shop.

Perhaps homicide wasn't the answer. But he felt obliged to at least say something to him, tell him to back off. Kurt was one of the few good things left in his life, and he could not loose him. He just couldn't.

The old chords squeaked unnervingly as the lift juddered to a halt on the second floor. The doors slid open, and a person stepped on. Blaine looked at the floor-he didn't trust that there wasn't a menacing scowl on his face, and he didn't want to scare any of the old ladies that made up most of the population here. It really was pensioner-central in these flats. A few on Grandma Lucy's floor were now at the stage of smiling and waving at him, after discovering he was not a teenage vandal. One, Ms Jones with the multitude of cats, asked him every day how old he was and pinched his cheek rather painfully. Another, Mrs Edgeware, was either particularly friendly, or verging on uncomfortably flirty with him, finding any excuse to keep him talking in the hall and giggling at everything he said like she was sixteen, not sixty-nine. She'd got him to help her install her new TV yesterday, and managed to keep him prisoner for hours, having obviously put on her best shirt and lipstick. He guessed she was lonely, so happily chatted to her, feeling like Tom Riddle visiting Hepzibah Smith in Pokey the house-elf's memory in _the Half-Blood Prince_-but it was still a little creepy.

"Oh, hello, Blaine, dear!"

Oh God, the person was talking to him. He looked up, doing his best to smile politely. It was Mrs Peters, from 8G, next to Grandma's. He'd went to the library for her yesterday (God, he should have a Helping the Elderly badge), getting the Thomas Hardy book she wanted out. He liked her husband Mr Peters-an octogenarian with some amazing stories about fighting in the Second World War. "Good afternoon, Mrs Peters, how are you?" he asked, surprised at how normal his voice sounded.

"Oh, I'm not too bad thanks-you know, knee still playing up. I don't know how your grandma Lucy stays as fit as a fiddle!" She shook her head a little, transferring her shopping bags to the other withered hand.

"Here, let me help you," Blaine automatically said, reaching down and taking them. Blimey, they were heavy.

"Thank you, dear. You're a good boy,"

Hmm. Blaine reckoned she wouldn't have said that if she could see the picture in his mind of throwing Karofsky off the Grand Canyon.

The lift eventually reached the fifth floor, and Blaine carried the cumbersome, abundant bags right into her tidy flat, which as always smelled of air-freshener and old-person, carefully placing them down where she directed in the kitchen. "Would you like me to help you put them away?"

"No, you're a dear, but you're okay," she smiled. "My grandson can help me. David!" she called.

Blaine's blood froze.

No way.

It couldn't be.

God, no.

The guitarist swore he had never in his life been more relieved when a thirteen-year-old boy ambled in, dressed in sportswear. "Yeah, Grandma?" He studied Blaine curiously. "Who's this?"

It was all Blaine could do not to hug him, he was so mitigated. "This is Blaine, the nice boy from next door," Mrs Peters said, as if talking about a nine-year-old.

"Hey, man," Blaine grinned, holding out a hand, which David gingerly shook.

"He goes to McKinley High, where you're going next year!"

"Oh," David sounded permanently bored, his voice obviously just starting to break.

"Alright, Mrs Peters, if you ever need a hand with anything, just give us a shout!" Blaine waved goodbye and left the flat, closing the door carefully behind him. He felt warmer and nicer now, considerably more contented.

"Anderson?"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Blaine's body turned to ice. That voice.

Spinning around-there was David Karofsky. Stood about twelve feet away, phone in hand, looking just as shocked as Blaine.

The two guys stood frozen, staring as if expecting the other one to disappear. You could have heard a pin drop. Blaine's gut twisted with anger at seeing him-what should he do? Should he say something now?

"K-Karofsky," he returned, keeping his voice monotone.

There was silence for a few more seconds. Then-

Blaine almost screamed as the jock suddenly flew at him, pinning him forcefully to the wall, rough hands digging into his chest. It hurt like hell-but Blaine constrained himself to stare him right in his cold, dark eyes. "Get off, you jerk!"

"Or what?" His voice was suddenly menacing, exactly the tone Kurt had described. Blaine was just about to come back at him-when something caught his eye.

Kurt had for a long time declined getting Facebook, him being "unique", but had eventually joined when he left McKinley to keep in touch. Since then-he had become the FaceBooker, updating status' every hour or so, and constantly changing his profile picture. Blaine always found himself "like"ing every new photo, so could pretty much recall every single one, from the posed one the countertenor had taken himself in his bathroom, to the one with Finn, were Kurt looked stunning and the footballer looked like a horse had just stamped on his face. His current one, Blaine had "like"d very much. It was a picture Mercedes had taken a few weeks ago (though with everything with his parents it seemed like a lifetime) when the three of them had ended up in the children's playground in the park. Blaine had instantly made a beeline for the climbing frame, where he promptly started showing off, hanging upside down and swinging around. Mercedes had given it a "hell to the no", but after much persuading, Kurt had abandoned his handbag and his dignity and joined him. Kurt's current profile picture was of the two of them sitting precariously on top of it, laughing. The guitarist thought he looked weird in it, but Kurt looked dreamily lovely, so happy and relaxed…

Blaine brought this up, because the exact same photo was shining out of Karofsky's Blackberry screen.

Well, he'd been cropped out, so it was just Kurt. As Karofsky's phone background.

A huge volcano of anger exploded like a cork out of a champagne bottle, boiling Blaine's blood and scorching his throat as it burst out. "Why the hell is Kurt's photo on your phone?" he yelled.

For a nanosecond, Karofsky shrank. He looked terrified. Then-his face became ashen. "Lets see how much Kurt likes you when I wreak your pretty little face!"

The jock threw Blaine across the hall with such force he smashed into the other wall, with a sickening bang, then ran and grabbed him again. But this time, Blaine was ready. Ignoring the pain swelling, he twisted the jock's arm painfully behind his back. "You bastard!" he shouted. "You _creep_!"

"You don't freaking deserve Kurt!" Karofsky hollered back, jerking out of it and going to punch him-but Blaine blocked it, adrenaline induced strength matching the jock's.

"And you do? You're not good enough to lace his shoes!" Blaine felt a bit cruel belittling the already confused and unconfident guy-but the feeling didn't last long as he applied more pressure pushing back Karofsky's wrist.

"You-" The bully pulled harder-then suddenly broke free, grabbing Blaine's head in both hands and belting it with inhuman might into the wall. The guitarist, dazed, fell to the floor, already loosing consciousness. Everything was spinning. From what seemed like galaxies away, he heard Karofsky's voice: "You shit," Then, the tone suddenly changed. it sounded pleading, almost begging. "Why does Kurt love you? Why you? What do you have?"

Then, no more. Blaine's body switched off, and there was nothing.

**He's not dead! Don't worry your pretty little heads! :') **

**Next chapter soon!**

**Spoiler: Finn makes grilled cheese (with no divine appearances), and Kurt finds something worrying under his bed…**

**Oh, and poor old Blaine…and I'm saying no more…:')**

**Keep reading, and review please! PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone :') **

**Sorry for the wait! But here's Chapter Eleven :')**

**WARNING- The beginning is a little ghoulish…**

**Hope you enjoy, and please review!**

He was attacking him. Blaine could hear the heart-wrenching, awful, terrified high-pitched screams of Kurt as Karofsky brutally beat him up, pinning him to the wall, and throwing him around like a doll. He tried to run to him, to cry out-but no sound came, and he was immobile, like a statue. He could not even close his eyes. They were forced open by invisible strength, making him watch as his worst nightmares unfolded. That _screaming_. It was blood-curdling, yanking at Blaine's very soul, each shriek of agony and fear reminding him he could not help, could not save him, could do nothing. Helplessly, he watched as blood began to spurt out of his trapped boyfriend, spilling scarlet pools, spreading like a spilled drink. Oh God, Blaine begged whatever higher being there was to stop this, let Karofsky attack him instead, let him kill him, save Kurt.

Growing paler by the second as his blood drained away, Kurt weakly turned his head, which hung sickeningly, blood pouring out, his neck obviously broken, to look at Blaine. Those eyes. Those innocent blue-green flowers, hopeless, knowing it was too late. Blaine could see tears beginning to spill. It smashed his heart to pieces, as the countertenor's blood-crusted lips opened-then were still.

_No! _Blaine tried to scream, but no sound could be made. He was falling, falling into an endless black pit of hell. He wanted to die.

But Karofsky wasn't done. Leaning over Kurt's broken-but still so beautiful-face, he passionately kissed him, over and over again. Each was like a dagger in Blaine's heart, stabbing mercilessly, killing him-but he could not die. He had to watch, watch as Karofsky held his lifeless body, getting covered in Kurt's blood, pressing his lips to every inch of Kurt's snow-white skin-

"Blaine? Blaine!"

A voice…

Blaine's eyes snapped open. "Kurt!" he said immediately-then stopped. He was no longer in that world. The face above his own was-Grandma Lucy. Her withered face was terrified. The ceiling was off-white. He was back in the flats, on the fifth floor. Right where Karofsky had left him.

"Blaine, what on Earth happened to you?" she asked urgently. The guitarist felt dizzy. He lifted a hand to his head-and the pain suddenly hit like a tidal wave. His head felt like it had been shot, his whole body ached from being thrown into the wall, there were definitely bruises swelling on his chest where Karofsky had pinned him to the wall. He groaned, still slightly delirious. "Blaine?" asked Grandma again, her Irish tone high-pitched and worried.

"Grandma…" he whispered, tasting blood on his evidently split lips, which stung.

"What happened?" Her voice was still panicked. "Did someone beat you up?"

Painfully, he nodded.

"Oh my God. Was it…anyone you know?" Grandma's speech was suddenly hushed and concerned, scared. He knew what she was getting at.

"…Just…some…urm…guy…"

Her face contorted into one of fury. "Who?"

He didn't want to tell her. "I…don't know…"

Grandma looked more enraged than Blaine had ever seen her in his whole life. Her eyes were fuming, almost turning a shade darker. "Fooking eegit!"

The swearword made Blaine's eyes widen-since when did this mild, gentle woman curse? In any other circumstance, it would have been funny. But he was in too much pain.

"What sort of a world is this, where guys randomly beat up harmless kids?" The heated, ferocious tones were totally new to Blaine-he'd never seen her like this. "And after everything you've been through-"

She was getting in such a state, Blaine was worried. "Grandma, I'm okay,"

"We need to get you to hospital-"

"I'm not going to-"

"Blaine, you could have concussion-"

"Please, Grandma," Blaine looked her in the eyes. "I'm fine. Not the hospital,"

For a few seconds, she looked back at him, her face impossible to read. Then, a bit of the fire extinguished, and she was more recognisably herself again. To Blaine's horror, there were tears in her eyes.

"Grandma!" Blaine, ignoring the strain on his aching arms, folded them tightly around her. "Please don't cry!" It was scary when she cried; the way she did it. The rare times she really broke down, she'd never make a sound, but tears would course silently down her face. It was awful.

"Never mind about me," she said bravely, pulling Blaine carefully close, cautious not to cause him any further damage. "Now, are you sure you won't go to hospital? I know head injuries always look worse than they are-" "I'll be fine, Grandma,"

"We should go to the police-"

"Please, I don't want a fuss. Things like this happen all the time. I mean, it's not the first time I've been beat up-though never this bad, fair enough,"

Sighing slightly, Grandma nodded. "Okay. I suppose as long as you're okay, that's what matters," Suddenly, he held him tighter. "God, when I walked up the hall and saw you here…I thought…"

"Grandma, it's okay. It's over now," he said firmly.

"Okay, love," She didn't look entirely happy, but looked past it. "Lets get you quickly inside and do something about your poor head fast,"

With some difficulty, they both got to their feet. Blaine tried to refuse any support, but when he stood up and the world started spinning again, he reluctantly, but gratefully leaned on her as the made their was slowly to the flat. Within two minutes, Grandma had him sat on the couch, leant back, while she cleaned up his cuts, including the nasty one on his head, and put ice on all his bruises. Blaine didn't like her going out of her way for him any more than she had to, but there was no stopping her once she got going. "You really should go to hospital, you know. Might heal better with stitches,"

"It's fine," It hurt, but he wasn't going to stay that. Also, the ice was making his face numb, and his arms, which were covered in huge bruises. He looked like he'd wrestled with a bear. Well, he sort of had.

"Well, at least the bleeding is stopping now…" She tutted. "I remember when my Nicole was about six, and she tripped all the way down the hill outside…gosh, the bruises…I was amazed she didn't break anything-oh!" Grandma stopped abruptly. "I'm sorry, love!"

"No, no, it's okay," Blaine looked at the photos of his mom on the mantlepiece. There was no doubt how much Grandma Lucy loved her adopted daughter. He felt a pang for how little his mother acknowledged her even existence nowadays. She'd almost abandoned the woman who'd been her mother as she'd ripped her son off the page.

"Well, this'll get you out of cheerleading practise for a few weeks!" she joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Blaine almost laughed-_likely_, with Miss Sylvester. She'd probably make him do extra…

But he couldn't get something out of his mind. That dream. That vision while he was unconscious…it was so vivid, so real…

"Grandma, I'm going to call Kurt,"

She blinked. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Are you well enough?"

"I need to see him,"

He got out his phone to text-but what do you say in a message?

Grandma saw him hesitate. "Do you want me to phone him?"

After a pause-Blaine nodded. With a re-assuring smile, Grandma took his phone and left the room, scrolling through the contacts.

His eyelids felt _so_ heavy…He knew he shouldn't sleep, but…

"Blaine!"

A high-pitched, terrified voice jolted him awake, accompanied by the sound of running designer shoes. Blaine didn't need to open his eyes to know who'd just whirl-winded into the apartment. He breathed a sigh of relief-it was only a dream, but still…

"Is he dead?"

"Kurt, love, calm down-" "Where is he?" The countertenor's tone was more and more panicked.

"Kurt, that's the airing cupboard…"

Finally, the living room door flew open and there was a flash of red and white clothes as Kurt rushed toward him, skidding to a halt inches short of the couch. He took one look at Blaine-and promptly began to cry.

"Oh, Kurt, it's okay!" Blaine made jazz-hands to prove him point. "I'm alive!"

"That-that is not the point!" Kurt sobbed. Blaine was taken aback.

"So what _is_ the point?"

"You-" Kurt dropped to his knees, taking his bruised hand in both of his. "You-can't s-scare me like that, okay?"

Blaine looked into his boyfriend's tear-stained, frightened face-and his heart melted, all anger at Karofsky forgotten. "So you'd rather I died, but warned you first?" he grinned weakly.

"N-no, Blaine, don't be an-I'm sorry!" The countertenor's tears dripped onto Blaine's arm "Of course I'd rather you didn't die!"

"I'll try not to," Blaine smiled, gently stroking Kurt's strangely damp hair.

"But you're okay?" Kurt asked him urgently, tears sparkling on his long eyelashes.

"I'll be fine,"

Letting out a huge breath he'd obviously been holding for a while, Kurt relaxed a little. "Thank God…"

"Thank you for coming,"

"I was right in the middle of my post-school skin routine when your Grandma called, saying you'd been _attacked_, so I literally dropped everything. I was so scared, you wouldn't believe…"

"I would," came Grandma's voice from the doorway.

"…so I'm sorry if I look a mess, but I had to come right away when I found out you'd been hurt…" Sure enough, Kurt's fringe was scraped back by a headband and there was still a dab of light pink moisturiser on his right cheek. Blaine was touched.

"Oh my gosh, you left your skin routine for me?" He pretended to be aghast-but smiled. "Thank you. And you're perfect,"

Distinctly, Blaine saw his boyfriend's cheeks blush slightly pinker, his adorable smile beginning to kick in as he realised Blaine was okay. Reaching out the other hand, Kurt placed it on his boyfriend's forehead. "Are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"

"I am sure," the guitarist said firmly. Kurt let his hand wonder into Blaine's hair.

"…I have to say, that was by far the most horrible eight and a half minutes of my life…" the countertenor half-whispered. Blaine looked over his boyfriend's shoulder to see his grandma smiling.

"You look a lot better now, pet," she said brightly to her grandson. "Not so pale and sick,"

"I wonder why…" Blaine grinned at Kurt, who missed it.

"Do stay for dinner, Kurt, won't you?" Grandma put it as more of a statement than a question, her smile now with the glint in her eye.

"Thank you, but-" he began.

"Of course you will," Grandma said firmly. Kurt looked a bit taken aback, not sure if she was serious. Blaine was trying not to laugh.

"No, really, it's okay-" the countertenor tried again.

"Anywhere you need to be this evening?" she cut across him, grinning now.

"Well, no-"

"Then why ever not?" She was teasing him, but there was no way out of it now. Winking at Blaine, Grandma left the room, laughing silently to herself.

"Yes, Kurt, you have to stay with me. I'll be sad if you leave," Blaine made his best puppy-dog face, adding cute whimpering sounds for effect.

"Oh-okay, then," Kurt agreed, slightly reluctantly, but happily enough. "But seriously, I can't keep eating your grandmother's outstanding food-I will not fit into any of my clothes!"

"I know-but it's so damn good!" Blaine grinned. "We should bring Finn here-he'd have no problem finishing everything!" "I swear that boy could eat the entire contents of the school kitchens in thirty seconds flat," Kurt shook his head.

"Yes-but why on Earth would he want to? That stuff shouldn't be classed as food," Blaine gave a pantomime shudder.

"Okay, I'll stay for dinner-on two conditions," Kurt raised a perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

"Anything, my lord," the guitarist laughed in a mock-British accent.

"Number one-" Kurt held up a slim finger. "You come to mine tomorrow,"

"Done," Blaine grinned.

"And number two-" Kurt held up another, pausing for effect.

"Yes?"

"You kiss me," the countertenor smiled cheekily, looking down a little shyly-but up through his long, curled eyelashes in the way he knew drove Blaine crazy.

"Hmmm…" Blaine resisted the irrepressible urge to kiss the boy within an inch of his life right that second, pretending to consider. "Hmmm, we'll have to see…"

"Blaine!" Kurt gave him a "look"-which was caught short by Blaine pulling him right onto his lap and kissing him squarely on the lips. He tasted of cherry chapstick and strawberries; with his familiar sweet smell and the feel of his soft skin, Blaine was home.

What could have been seconds, hours, or years later, the kiss finally broke. Kurt gave that adorable soft giggle, snuggling down with his head resting on Blaine's chest and gently tracing the large bruises down his arms. Blaine smiled, fully relaxed and contented for the first time since the end of Glee club. Why should he be jealous of Karofsky? Deep down, Blaine really hoped everything would be okay for the closeted jock, that he'd find some nice, understanding guy-just not Kurt. It seemed-well, not okay-but better now. As long as Karofsky didn't hurt Kurt in any way, it would be alright. Blaine admitted-he'd over-reacted.

As long as Kurt was safe, and in his arms, that was all that mattered.

**Uneventful-but plenty to come…**

**Keep reading! PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxxx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone! :') Hope you enjoy, and review please! :')**

**WARNING: Fluffiness-though you mightn't get much more of that soon…**

**SPOILER: A little flashback…**

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxxx**

Kurt gave a little squeak of surprise as the doorbell rang-five minutes early. Blaine was early-oh _hell_! He hadn't finished cooking yet-there was no point competing with Grandma Lucy, but he'd give it a go. Oh God, he was still in his cooking ensemble-ie, a plain black tank top and his oldest grey jeans that he could afford to spill something on. In the door of the still-on oven, he looked a mess. His hair was still floppy from having not blow-dried carefully, and his fringe fell insolently in his eyes. Oh shit. He practically had a Bieber.

He could hear footsteps-oh Dad, please don't open the door, please don't open the-oh hellfire, he opened the door. And now his boyfriend was in the hall. Alone. With his father.

This evening, which Kurt had planned down to which acceptable shirt his dad was to wear, could not have started any more badly.

There was only one thing for it. Getting out his phone, he dialled his step-mother's number, who's ringtone he heard from where she was tidying up in the next room.

"Hello?"

"Carole, it's me," he hissed in hushed tones.

"Kurt? Honey, why are you phoning from across the hall?"

"Shh!" he begged. "I need help. Urgently,"

He heard a sigh, then footsteps as Carole Hudsen-Hummel arrived in the kitchen, quickly closing the door behind her. "Who died?"

"Me, in a minute!" he whispered, panicked. "I'm stranded in the kitchen, a long way from my hairspray and wardrobe, and I look _awful-_"

"I think you look fine," Carole interrupted.

""Fine" is not good enough! And you're my step-mom, therefore biased. But now my boyfriend is here _early, _and-"

"Kurt," Carole put well-practised, calming hands on his shoulders. "Breathe,"

The countertenor took a deep breath, feeling only a fraction calmer. His eyes darted to the closed door, behind which he could hear his father's voice. Oh God, they were talking.

"Now," Carole made him look her in the eyes. "Sweetie, I know you're not going to believe me, because "I'm your step-mom", but you could dress like _Finn_ and Blaine would still love you,"

They shared a catty giggle. "But that's not the point," Kurt said.

"What, the point is not that your boyfriend loves you?" Carole had an annoying habit of always being right. "I know…but-"

"I _but_ your but,"

Kurt's eyes widened. "Carole, never try and talk like Mercedes again,"

"Okay, honey, I'm sorry!" she laughed. "But it's true. And your hair is cute even when you haven't spent hours on it. You're blessed with naturally lovely hair." Running a hand over her own curls, she sighed a little-but smiled. "And I know Blaine thinks you look gorgeous no matter what. He _tells_ you often enough,"

"How do you know-"

"Facebook,"

"Oh…"

"There," Carole gently rested a hand against his cheek. "And as for his being early-take it as a compliment! He can't wait to see you-no matter what you're wearing. He's just keen," she smiled. "Now. The food smells great. I'll look after it while you get out there before your father makes a "joke""

"Good plan. Thank you, Carole," Kurt said gratefully, giving her a quick hug. He still didn't like going to see his boyfriend looking like trash, but that couldn't be helped now. He'd just have to stand next to Finn so he looked better…

Before leaving the kitchen, he checked his reflection in the glass door of the oven. Oh Gaga, the top was practically see-through, no sleeves emphasising how pale his arms were. Quickly flicking his hair to get rid of the horrific Bieber sweep, before he could hesitate, he walked straight into the hall.

"…just type in any song, and it'll find it for you?" Burt was sat down at the computer in the corner, apparently fascinated, with Blaine stood behind.

"Yes, sir,"

"So _that's_ the Youtube? Ah…"

"Hey," Kurt called awkwardly, hands self-consciously folded across his front. The guitarist turned around-and Kurt's heart went into super-drive, glowing like a million candles. He couldn't help but smile as he saw him. To his relief, Blaine was smiling back. He breathed out a little, his golden eyes like jewels.

"Hi, Kurt," He came quickly over to him, giving him a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek-the most he dared do with Burt around. Relaxing, Kurt rested his head on his shoulder, thanking everything he was lucky and blessed enough to have Blaine.

"How are you doing?" he asked, still in an embrace. "How is your head?" "Still screwed on-just," Blaine grinned. Finally, reluctantly, pulling away, Kurt tenderly stroked the huge bandage over the injury.

"I still think you should have gone to the hospital,"

"It's fine," Blaine insisted.

"You still have no idea who did it?"

"…No,"

"Well, whoever he is, I hope Karma gets him back," Kurt muttered darkly. He'd spent a _long _time cursing the guy who'd attacked his boyfriend.

"May all his bacon burn…" Blaine joked.

"Come on, let's go downstairs-dinner's not ready for a while yet," He took Blaine's hand and began to lead him towards the basement.

"Door stays open," were Burt's parting words.

The basement of the Hummel-Hudsen house was remarkable. There was a definite divide where Kurt's space ended and Finn's territory began. To one side, there was not a speck of dust, nothing dared step out of line and his bed was carefully made and covered in carefully arranged cushions. To the other-well, a tornado might have ripped through it. It was a wonder Finn could find anything in the debris. The man himself was sprawled on his unmade bed, which was covered in-

"Ewww! Finn, put your Playboys away!" Kurt covered his eyes.

"Oh crap!" Kurt could hear the sound of magazines being shoved under the bed. "You could _warn _me!"

"Brother dear, I thought we had a deal. I don't bombard you with musical theatre, and you keep your-ahem-entertainment out of sight!"

The quarterback's face was suddenly terrified. "You won't tell Mom, right?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "What's it worth?" he teased, knowing Finn would fall for it.

"Anything," said Finn-stupidly.

"Well, you can start by cleaning your side of the room. I miss seeing the floor over there…and you can stop sneaking boys in here!" Kurt couldn't resist, giggling.

"What?" Finn looked furious. "I did not _sneak_ Puck in here!"

"Whatever you say," The countertenor winked at his step-brother.

"Shut up!" Finn snarled. Blaine was sniggering, a hand over his mouth.

"You're never going to hear the end of that, Finn, God love you!"

"Well, I'm off!" Finn gave them both the filthiest evils ever, grabbed his half-eaten grilled-cheese sandwich and stormed out, looking for a moment just like Rachel. Slamming the door behind him, they heard his heavy footsteps across the floor toward the living room.

"Well! And here was me trying to keep on the right side of your brother!" Blaine laughed.

"Honey, Finn is such fun to wind up- I would be denying you your privileges as my boyfriend not to be able to antagonise him," Kurt sat down on his bed, throwing a fluffy cushion aside to make room for Blaine.

"What's this about Finn sneaking _boys_ in?"

Kurt gave a small scream of fear and Blaine jumped a mile as a voice came from _under the bed_.

"R-Rachel?"

After a second of struggling, and a small "Owch!" as she banged her head, the Glee club's brunette diva appeared from beneath, tidying her hair and straightening her clothes, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Rachel, what in the name of Gaga are you doing under my bed?" Kurt squeaked, grabbing onto Blaine's hand.

"Oh, merely waiting for the opportune moment to surprise Finn-I read that being spontaneous is the key to maintaining a good relationship,"

Kurt was amazed at how matter-of-fact she was after giving him the shock of his life.

"…so I was just about to, when you came in, but springing up in front of all three of you would simply not be the same," Rachel finished, looking at them as if expecting applause.

"Err…wow…" Blaine was still shellshocked.

"Right! Well, you'd better go surprise him now!" the countertenor suggested.

"Yes, Kurt, I think you are correct. I shall indeed go and surprise him now-though it won't really have the same effect…"

"Maybe that's a _good _thing…" Blaine murmured.

"Okay! Well, goodbye, see you in Glee club tomorrow!" The diva turned on her heel and left the basement. Kurt almost passed out with relief.

"Blaine, for the love of God, never do that to me!"

"Likewise! Wow, that girl is something else…do _all_ the members of the Glee club end up in or under your beds?"

Kurt responded by hitting him with a pillow.

"Is there anyone else hiding under here?" Blaine pretended to search, diving down and looking under the bed-when he squealed in excitement and brought something out. Something black and rhinestoned.

"Oooh, what's this?" Blaine put on a high-pitched sing-song voice. "_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel's Secret Diary_!"

"Oh my BARBRA no!" Kurt lunged at him, trying to grab it-that diary was his most private possestion-but Blaine held him back, carrying on reading the front in that spot-on imitation.

"_Keep out-and that means you, Finn_!"

Still attempting to confiscate the book, Kurt leaped around like a mad thing. "That's the diary I kept my sophomore and junior years! Put it down!" "No," Blaine teased, dodging Kurt neatly. The countertenor could see this was not a fight he could win. Well. What harm could it do?

"Oh, go on then, if it means that much to you!" "Yay!" Blaine beamed, sitting back down on the bed, pulling Kurt down beside him, who anxiously watched over his shoulder as he opened the diary:

"_Dear Diary,"_ The guitarist read aloud. "_First Glee club rehearsal today: we stink. I mean, _Sit Down You're Rocking The Boat_? There are, like, five of us-but Mercedes seems awesome. However, that Rachel girl is soooooooooo annoying! And she dresses appallingly!" _Blaine snorted. "Kurt, that's so mean!" "Well, I was, like, fifteen…" Kurt leaned into his boyfriend as he flipped to a random page.

"_Dear Diary-" _He went back to the ultra-falsetto sing-song voice. "_OMG OMG OMG I am so in love with Finn Hudsen!" _

"Crap! Stop reading now!" Kurt felt himself blushing as he tried to grab the book again, but Blaine was fast.

"Every time you wrote "Finn" you put a little heart around it!" Blaine laughed. "That's adorable,"

"Oh God, I forgot I used to have a crush on him…" Kurt made a face. "Ewww…"

"_He saved me from another jock today-he's my knight in shining armour!" _Blaine snorted. "Oh, Kurt, you are outstanding…_I even find his stupidity endearing…He's sooooooooooo dreamy…"_

"You are banned from reading any more about Finn!" Kurt managed to shove the diary far into the future.

"_Dear Diary, I just met the most AMAZING guy in the world ever in all time-_tut tut, your grammar- _Blaine Anderson!"_

"Oh, HELL to the no!" Kurt had turned utterly scarlet, literally dying on the spot. This was a _bad_ idea!

"Oh look, I got a bigger heart than Finn!" Blaine admired the artwork on the page, which consisted of his name surrounded by sprawling pink and red love hearts. "_He is WONDERFUL-and absolutely BEAUTIFUL-and ACTUALLY ALSO GAY!_ …_I think I'm falling in love with him…_Oh look, a whole page dedicated to me! Wow, I've never seen so many hearts in one place…_He's the most amazing person I've ever met…This is nothing like anything before; this is real…I think I'm in love with him…he's my Prince Charming…_"

"Your head is going to swell so much…" Kurt had given up. Blaine could read what he wanted. He'd just have to suck it up.

"_Dear Diary, My heart is broken. I'm shattered. Blaine likes someone else…_oh, it's all tearstained! Bless your heart!" Blaine put an arm around him, pulling him close. Face burning, Kurt snuggled into him as he happily read aloud the long, admiring, devoted passages about him. God, this would be good for his ego. He would be unbearable. But Kurt still meant every word. Well, except the bits about Finn. He was so glad to see his boyfriend so back to his normal cheerful self, he didn't even particularly mind the humiliation. The guitarist seemed to find it endearing anyhow.

"Awwh, baby, bless you!" Blaine gave him a kiss on the cheek as he closed the diary and carefully put it down on the bed covers. "You write such adorable things,"

"Yeah, all about you…" Kurt grinned sheepishly. "But you can't talk-you've composed entire sonnets for me!"

"Oh, and look, I did this for you!" Blaine dived down and fished in his bag, finally pulling out a folded sheet. "I drawed a picture of you," he lisped.

Kurt's face blossomed into a huge smile. "Oh my Gaga! You actually did!"

"Well, you're a great muse," The guitarist was looking shy now. "It's really not that good,"

But Kurt was already unfolding it eagerly. He looked. He stared.

The page was a delicate pencil sketch, the tones ranging from pale grey to almost black, apart from one part. The boy in the drawing was gazing slightly-unfocusedly into the distance, like he was daydreaming. The careful shading on his face made it look like he was looking towards a light, his head bent slightly to the side, leant up on one elbow. The boy smiled dreamily, like he was watching something beautiful. The likeness to Kurt was stunning-he'd even got his dimples in the exact right places, his eyebrows the precise right shape-but something about the way he was drawn made him look almost like some sort of nymph. The only part of the drawing with colour were his eyes, the exact blue-green shade, with the eyelashes made extra long and darker.

"It doesn't really do you justice," the artist was saying worriedly. "If you don't like it…"

Kurt was speechless.

"…Really, I hope you're not insulted…oh hell, I got your smile wrong…" Blaine was looking ashamed. "The shading on your hair is messed up…"

"It's perfect…" Kurt whispered.

"Really?" Blaine's voice went up at the end in amazement. "I mean…I can do another one-"

"Shush, you," Kurt put a finger over his boyfriend's lips. "I love it. Really, I do. It's amazing,"

Blaine looked relieved, pretending to wipe his forehead. "Phew!"

"Honey, you have to believe in yourself!"

"Hmmm…well, I'm so glad you like it baby,"

Kurt loved it when Blaine called him baby. It made him feel warm and nice and cute. The guitarist leaned forward and kissed him properly, slowly. Kurt's heart leaped into his throat as his boyfriend carefully buried one hand in his hair, the other wrapped around his waist. Keenly, the countertenor leaned closer into him, deepening the kiss, stroking his neck. He wished Blaine wasn't such a gentleman.

Wow. Kurt had never had that thought before. That was weird.

Without pausing to think, Kurt kissed him harder, gently, but firmly, pushing him downwards onto the bed into a lying down position, never breaking the kiss. He stroked Blaine's hair, then moved a hand down his face, running it down his chest. He heard Blaine moan slightly. When he got to the hem of his shirt, carefully, he began to slide it up-

"Kurt? Blaine? Food!" Carole's voice came from upstairs. Like elastic, the boys sprung away from each other. Blaine was looking strange.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Kurt said guiltily, sitting on the offending hand. "I didn't mean-"

"Come on, lets go, or your father will get suspicious," Grinning at Kurt's sentenced face, he took his hand and lead him towards the door.

"I mean-you weren't offended-or-anything?" Kurt squeaked worriedly.

"Offend Dobby?" Blaine joked in a bang-on imitation of the house-elf.

"Blaine, I'm serious,"

"You're so sweet, you know that?" Blaine smiled. "Of course I'm not offended," he told him surely.

"Are you sure?" Kurt was still worried.

"Babe, it's fine. If I'm perfectly honest-it was good,"

"Really?" Kurt's eyes widened. "You mean-you didn't mind?"

Blaine was laughing now at Kurt's stammering. "No, stop fretting! Of course I didn't mind. It's not like you really did anything bad! Gosh, look at your face…you're adorable,"

As they climbed the stairs, still holding hands, it occurred to Kurt-that was probably the steamiest their make-out sessions had ever got…

"And five, six, seven, eight! One two three four-Kurt, jazz hands!-seven eight!" Mr Schue counted as the Glee club practised their grapevine-step-ball-change routine to a new number. It was always fun practising dancing with Finn-he still didn't know his right from his left, but made jokes about it now, doing comic impressions of everyone and generally messing around a little. Everyone was in a bit of a silly, giggly mood today, and Mr Schue had almost given up trying to teach them. Kurt still couldn't look at Rachel after her little adventure last night. Blaine had started taking great pleasure in slyly quoting the diary at him to make him cringe. Even now he was looking over his shoulder and mouthing: "_He's sooooooo dreamy_!"

"Alright, guys-"

"Will!" Emma Pillsberry had come running into the room, in a canary yellow cardigan which made Kurt wince- but her pale, pretty face was worried. She panted slightly, obviously having ran all the way from her office.

"What's wrong?" Mr Schue looked concerned. The room had fallen silent.

Kurt had seen Miss Pillsberry like this only once before. When his father had had the heart attack.

"Blaine?" The guidance councillor looked around until she spotted him. "Blaine, it's your grandmother,"


	13. Chapter 13

_Eight-year-old Kurt Hummel had been sat on his Aunt Mildred's lap for the past almost three hours, in this boring, white-pained room with it's garish orange seats and various hygiene notices on the walls. He'd read all of the fashion magazines spread out on the tables, coloured all the pictures in the colouring book an uncle had given him last week and sang his aunt all the way through _The Sound Of Music_, which she'd taken him miles to see on stage the night before last. And now he was bored. _

_It had been a funny few months. It was almost like his birthday-everyone had fully indulged and spoiled him-friends, family-and he'd been given lots of presents and treat outings. It was great-everyone he knew seemed to be being extra-nice to him, the other moms at school, his teachers, always giving him a kind smile when he passed. Kurt didn't really know why, but it didn't particularly bother him._

_And best of all, his mommy seemed to want to spend more time with him than ever. _

_They'd always been so close-but now she never seemed to want to be apart from him, playing with him all day, letting him comb her hair and choose her outfits. It had been awesome-she'd taken him to see the ballet _Swan Lake_, and last week they'd gone to this huge mall just outside of Lima, where they'd spent hours doing anything Kurt liked. He'd have liked to have stayed longer, but Mommy got tired. She got tired a lot nowadays, but Kurt supposed she couldn't help it, as she was poorly. But she'd get better soon, she'd told him so._

_Daddy was different too. He didn't nag Kurt about going out to play anymore, and didn't seem to mind him wearing his favourite Maria bonnet everywhere now. He hadn't gone to work the last few weeks, just spent as much time as he could with Mommy and Kurt. And just three nights ago, they'd sat down as a family, all three of them, and watched _The Wizard Of Oz_, something Daddy had sworn he never would do. It was Mommy's favourite film-she was always singing "Over The Rainbow" in her sweet, pretty voice, giving Judy Garland a run for her money, and actually owned a pair of sparkly sequinned red high heels. She loved to hear Kurt sing too-they'd both sang along the whole way through the film. He always cried at the end, when Dorothy had to say goodbye to all her friends in Oz, and clicked her ruby slippers together, saying "There's no place like home…" Mommy cried too-but she always laughed about it later. _

_The strange thing was, that time, Daddy cried too._

_Everyone was almost too nice. Just last week, an older boy at Kurt's school was calling Kurt names-words he hadn't heard, but had often been called-when a girl in one of the higher grades came over and told him to stop. She whispered something in his ear, looking pityingly at Kurt. The bully looked embarrassed, muttering "Sorry, dude…" before dashing away like Kurt had a disease. The older girl-Millie-had taken Kurt under her wing and brought him to play with her and her friends, making a big fuss of him and treating him like a fragile doll. He'd enjoyed it, and was going to play with her again this week-but he'd been allowed to stay home to be with Mommy. _

_Kurt wasn't stupid. He saw the way adults whispered to each other, looking sadly at him, then giving him a big, sunny smile as their eyes welled up. Everyone treated him like he could smash any second. Everyone seemed to know something he didn't-but he'd read in an etiquette magazine that it was rude to ask too many questions, so he remained silent and lapped up the attention. _

_Swinging his skinny legs, which were clothed in brand-new jeans, Kurt stared at the wall. Aunt Mildred seemed lost in thought, and he knew he himself hated to be interrupted while daydreaming, so he left her alone. He looked through the glass windows of the blue doors, which lead into the adjoining corridor to the waiting room where they were. That was where Mommy was._

_Mommy hadn't been at home for the last two days, she'd been staying overnight in the hospital with Daddy, so Aunt Mildred was here to look after Kurt. They visited every day, and stayed as long as they could. It was weird-Mommy was always so full of life, but now she looked so pale and sleepy, with lots of scary tubes sticking out of her. She smiled-but she never wore her glossy lipstick anymore. It puzzled him how going to hospital always seemed to make her sicker. When Kurt had had to kiss her goodbye yesterday evening, she'd held him so tight she'd almost hurt him. Her arms, once strong and lightly tanned, were now sticks of white skin and bone. "I love you so much, my darling baby boy. And I always will, no matter what," she kept saying, in a thick voice, like she was choking back tears. She gave him one last, lingering kiss, before Aunt Mildred had quickly whisked him away, with the promise of McDonald's. As they'd left the ward, Kurt was sure he'd heard a sob. _

_Something odd had happened this morning-when he was practising his tap-dancing, Aunt Mildred had suddenly told him to get into the car quickly. He did so, and she'd driven here so fast, like it was an emergency. But they'd just come in here, and there they'd been for the last few hours, waiting. To go see Mommy, Kurt guessed. Maybe she was sleeping right now…_

"_Where's Daddy?" Kurt finally asked his aunt. She did not answer right away-but gave him the big, sunny smile he'd seem so much recently. _

"_Daddy's just down the hall with Mommy now. Don't you worry, kitten-whiskers,"_

_Kurt _did _worry. He watched the clock as the endless seconds ticked by. Maybe the clock was broken; time could not possibly pass this slowly. He wanted Mommy. _

Ten years ago, Kurt had been sat in this very waiting room, at this very hospital, watching the same clock crawl round to indicate time still passed in this frozen world. He'd hoped never to find himself here again-his nightmares often featured this room, and what had happened next. Only this time, it wasn't Aunt Mildred with him. In the horrid, uncomfortable orange plastic chair beside him (Kurt was sure the chairs had been bigger) was his boyfriend.

Blaine had not said a word. He seemed barely aware of his surrounds, not seeming to register anything, just staring straight ahead like he'd been hypnotised. Like he was imagining a different life, a different universe, anywhere this wasn't happening.

"_Miss Evans?" A nurse in the regulation blue uniform, about twenty-five, with blonde hair tied back in a pony tail had entered, addressing Aunt Mildred. Kurt knew her-she was called Susannah, and she worked on the ward where Mommy was. She'd often sat with Kurt when Mommy fell asleep; she'd helped him make the paper flowers which currently hung around Mommy's hospital bed. Susannah always had a smile on her face-but now she looked serious and grave. When she saw Kurt, she gave him a friendly wave and re-assuring smile-but her eyes did not light up._

"_What's happened?" Aunt Mildred said immediately. _

"_Could you just step this way a moment, please?"_

_Beneath him, Kurt felt Aunt Mildred sink. Gently, she lifted him off her lap, and, with a kiss on the forehead, followed the nurse without a word into a side room, closing the door behind her._

_Suddenly, Kurt felt so alone. He looked around the big, empty waiting room, every move he made very audible. Hugging his knees up on the chair, he was scared. Where were Mommy and Daddy? He wanted Mommy so bad now, needed her to come and give him a cuddle, comfort him in her sweet, soothing voice. _

_Ten minutes later, Susannah emerged from the side room, trying not to look too upset. _

"_Where's Aunt Mildred?" His high voice echoed off the walls. _

"_Kurt, sweetie…" She looked sadly at him, pityingly. Kurt was confused. "Sweetie, your auntie needs to be alone right now,"_

"_Oh…" He looked down at his shoes. Then, he looked straight up at the nurse. "Can you tell me what's going on, please?"_

_Susannah looked sadder than ever. "Honey, it's not up to me to tell you. I'm sorry," _

"_Oh…okay…Will Daddy tell me, if I ask him?"_

_The nurse came and sat down beside him, taking his small hand gently in hers. Kurt could see a name tattooed on her wrist in curly black writing. "How about you and I go get a hot chocolate?"_

"_You didn't answer my question," Kurt persisted. "Will Daddy tell me?"_

_Sighing a little, Susannah looked him in the eyes. To his amazement, her green ones were full of tears. "I don't think your daddy can deal with questions right now, sweetie," she murmured to him. _

_Fear began to mount in Kurt's heart, real fear, for the first time in his life. "What's wrong with Daddy?" His voice had gone up a fifth. _

_Another nurse came suddenly through the blue doors. She was older, with grey, tightly-curled hair and glasses. She had the same grave look. Kurt knew her too, though not so well. This was Anna, who'd brought him an orange juice once, when Mommy was in for "testing" ages ago. She saw Kurt-and her eyes also welled up, though she pushed them back determinedly. "Kurt, dear, your Daddy wants to see you now,"_

_Susannah looked surprised. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"_

"_He wants to see him," Anna said simply. "I would too, in his position…come on, Kurt," She held out a weathered hand, which Kurt gingerly took, sliding off the chair and following. _

"_Bye, Kurt," Susannah called after him. "And God love you," she muttered. "Poor kid…"_

"Mr Anderson?"

Kurt looked up-and nearly screamed. The nurse in the ugly blue uniform, with horrific white shoes, a decade older and several pounds heavier-was unmistakeably Susannah. From all those years ago. This was like a horror movie, a sick joke.

There was even the same grave expression on her face.

Blaine sprang straight to his feet. "What's happening?" His voice was monotone-but his handsome face was terrified. The nurse glanced at Kurt.

"Don't I know you?" She screwed up her eyes, trying to put a name to the face. But Kurt could see Blaine was in agony.

"I don't know," he said quickly "What's happened with Blaine's grandmother?"

Susannah looked back to Blaine. The countertenor could see his boyfriend's hands were actually shaking.

"Could you just step this way, please?" she said, her voice low and calming, indicating the very side-room where Aunt Mildred had been told the news. Kurt heard the guitarist's sharp intake of breath as he grabbed his hand. He seemed to be on robot mode as he walked slowly, metallically, into the room, leading Kurt by the hand. Susannah seemed about to protest Kurt being there-but let it go, closing the door behind them.

_Anna lead him to a side room, opening the heavy wooden door. _

"_Daddy!"_

_Burt Hummel was sat in a chair near the small window, his back to the door, staring up at the sky. Kurt ran to him-then gasped. _

_The man he was seeing was undeniably his father-he wore the same shirt as he had on this morning, and the same jeans and shoes-but somehow, without physically changing-he looked so different. Older. Vague, like he wasn't really there. Haunted. And worst of all-his face was covered in tearstains. _

"_Daddy?"_

_Burt looked up to see his son-and tears fell rapidly, splashing onto the chair. _

"_Daddy?" Kurt's own eyes welled up-it killed him to see his father cry. "Daddy, what's happened? Why aren't you with Mommy?"_

_He was silent for what seemed like hours. Kurt stood in front of him, twisting his hands behind his back. _

"_Kurt, buddy-" Burt's voice was rough and scratchy, like a very ancient man. With shaking hands, he reached over and took Kurt's. _

"_Where's Mommy?" The frightened boy's wide eyes spilled tears of fear. _

"_Kurt, your mom-" Burt's voice cut out again. He couldn't look Kurt in the eyes. "Your mom loved you more than anything, you know that?" _

"_Yes…"_

"_And so do I,"_

"_Yes…Daddy, why are you crying?"_

_Taking a deep breath, Burt squeezed his hands tighter. "Son, everyone has their time on this earth. And everyone…passes on…You understand that?" _

"_Yes," Kurt suddenly felt strange. Like bad news was coming._

"…_Look, buddy…" Burt finally met his eyes. "Your mom always said how she was so happy with her life, and she loved the world…she was very happy,"_

"_Yes?"_

"_But…sometimes people are taken before their time…"_

_Kurt nodded-then suddenly, his heart dropped to the ground. He couldn't breathe. "Daddy-?"_

"_I'm so sorry, son, I'm so sorry-" More tears spilled down Burt's face. "Your mom…passed on this morning…"_

Kurt's memory was perfect of that day-but vague after those words. He didn't know if he'd blacked out, his mind had shut down with shock-or if he simply blocked what followed out. All he knew was they'd cried for a whole week.

Now, Kurt understood that him mom had a disease, that she'd been given three months to live. That it was common knowledge in the area, but everyone had sheltered Kurt from the truth, as anyone protects a child. He knew she'd been in a lot of pain, that death had been a release. He also knew her last, confused words as she'd died had been his name.

Although he'd come to accept it, and moved on with his life-how could anyone really ever get over loosing their mom?

So Kurt fully understood what it would be like for Blaine to loose his grandmother, the woman who'd been there for him no matter what, the woman who loved him unconditionally, the woman who'd supported him, the only member of his family he'd ever felt close to.

Although he prayed it wouldn't come to that. Please.

When he and Blaine had sat down on the other side of the desk, in blue chairs with fabric seats, Susannah, still wearing that serious, solemn expression, sat across from them.

"Mr Anderson-" she began slowly.

"Could you please just tell me?" Blaine's voice was higher than normal, his hand gripping Kurt's harder than ever.

"I'm very sorry, but after her sudden heart attack, your grandmother passed on,"

Blaine did not move. His face did not change. He didn't say a word.

_Passed on. _Those words were supposed to sugar-coat it. But they still hit like a bullet, a stabbing, being thrown into icy water, all those things you couldn't have seen coming that morning-as shocking as a death.

Blaine's grip slackened on Kurt's hand. The guitarist stared straight ahead, still making no move or sound. He seemed to have passed out without going into unconsciousness. He was like a statue. The silence was the worst.

Then, slowly, like an avalanche, a small moan escaped from his partially open mouth. The sound was awful, like someone dying. It broke Kurt's heart.

Eventually, the words seemed to hit Blaine properly. Suddenly, he made a gasping sound, and his golden eyes finally began to cry, after so long refusing.

"Oh, Blaine-" Kurt's arms wrapped around him, and the guitarist sobbed into the front of his shirt. The countertenor felt helpless, but all he could do was hold him tight, hold him together, try and stop him falling completely apart. Blaine's tears were already soaking through his shirt, but he couldn't care less.

It was strange. Two nights ago, Kurt had been happily chatting to Grandma Lucy, laughing at her jokes-and now she was gone. Just like that.

Kurt was sad about Grandma Lucy too-she was so full of life. She was just one of those people you couldn't imagine dying. Also, was just about the only old person Kurt could think of without a single health complaint. Well, if she had, she'd never said. He hadn't known her that long, but had got as far as imagining her as a great-grandmother to he and Blaine's children…

It was awful. Kurt couldn't think of a worse thing that could have happened now for his boyfriend, after being thrown out by his parents. He held him tighter, moving his hand in slow circles on his back.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Susannah-God, Kurt had forgotten she was there-said. The countertenor was surprised at how routine she sounded-still compassionate, but not on the verge of tears as she had been with his mom…Like she did this every day. Well, she probably did. Kurt couldn't imagine having that sort of career telling people their loved ones had died. "Is there anyone you'd like me to call?"

Blaine sobbed so hard-but silently. There were just this heart-breaking little gasps escaping as the front of Kurt's shirt became wetter and wetter.

"Any family?" the nurse prompted.

"_Kurt _is my family," he choked out, his voice so like Kurt's father's all those years ago. Half totally shellshocked, half so thick with tears you could barely understand. Kurt felt his own eyes welling up as Blaine said this.

"Oh, Blaine…."

"He's-" Blaine's voice cut off. "He's all I've got left…"

**I'm so sorry! :'( Please don't hate me, I love Blaine so much! I hate to do this to him!**

**But I promise it WILL get better! :'( **

**Keep reading, and review please! Thank you so much :') Every review makes my day :')**

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxxxx**


	14. Chapter 14

The sun poured weakly through the curtains as Kurt was awakened. Sighing a little, he realised how stiff his neck was as he turned to look at the clock. Quarter to eight in the morning. His eyes ached with tiredness-he'd only dropped off about an hour ago. All night, he'd been sat awake, trying to sooth his inconsolable boyfriend to sleep. The latter was curled up beside him, making little gasping sounds even as he finally slept, tearstains still shining wetly on his face, huge purple bags under his eyes, where the long lashes were stuck together. His breath was shuddering, like someone with an illness, or in a terrible state of shock.

In the half-light, Kurt looked around his bedroom. There was no Finn, him having gone to Mike's. Despite his state, the conditions of Blaine staying here was that he slept in Finn's bed-but Kurt couldn't bear to leave him on his own. Anyway, Burt hadn't looked like he'd hold him to that, as he patted Blaine on the shoulder comfortingly and told him he could stay as long as he liked.

It had been a long night, and Kurt would never forget it. Blaine would cry for hours straight, then be in silent thought for another, then those heart-breaking tears would come again. It was the silence as he cried that really got to Kurt. The way he clamped his lips together, like crying was a weakness, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't said a word since the hospital, apart from weakly thanking Kurt's parents as tears slid down his tanned cheeks. It was the shock. It had hit him she was gone, and he must feel so alone.

Gently, Kurt stroked his boyfriend's face, still wet and hot under his hand. It felt strange to see Blaine cry-really cry. Kurt sobbed over the least little things, but it took a hell of a lot to set the strong-and-silent Blaine off. It was always him drying Kurt's tears, telling him everything would be okay, holding him close and safe until the tears stopped. But this would take much longer to heal than anything they'd been through together before.

That was just it. Together. Kurt didn't care how long it took. He didn't care if he would be kept up all night every night. He didn't care if he had to stay with him twenty-four seven, never leaving his side. All he cared about was that they'd get through this. He'd help him through this, and he'd make sure Blaine smiled again, someday. Looking down at Blaine's angelic face as he whimpered slightly, like an injured puppy, Kurt felt his love for him grow more and more. At the same time, he wanted to cry, because he hated seeing his boyfriend in such agony.

But the pain would get better in time. Kurt vowed he would support him through every step. God, Kurt of all people knew what he was going through. And Blaine had no one but him now.

Would Mr and Mrs Anderson still turn their back on their son, after everything that had happened? Surely not…

But Kurt didn't know.

As he watched him sleep-it was awful-but Kurt couldn't help but think-this was not how he'd imagined sleeping with Blaine for the first time.

Softy stroking his boyfriend's hair, which had freed itself from the gel to reveal it's natural curls, Kurt wondered what he would be like when he woke up. He knew a long cry usually helped a little-but how would Blaine be?

Considering the curls-the countertenor thought they were cute. Blaine always said his hair was atrocious when not gelled to perfection, but Kurt liked it. It looked more relaxed, more causal, more naturally beautiful. He'd tell Blaine that.

Gently, he took Blaine's hand in his, surprised at how cold it felt. He thought back to that wonderful day when they'd met for the first time, and Blaine had taken his hand and literally swept him off his feet. It had felt like a dream as they'd ran through the halls of Dalton. Kurt remembered thinking how warm and secure Blaine's hand felt, how confident and self-assured he was. So different from now. He knew Blaine's confidence was just as much of a façade as his own, but since they'd been together, their confidences had grown so much, boosting off each other until they felt fearless.

Suddenly, there was a small moan, then a shivery intake of breath. Kurt felt the hand he held move.

"Blaine?" he asked softly. "Sweetheart?"

The guitarist gradually opened his eyes, looking up at Kurt. He closed his hand tighter around the countertenor's. Then, like a tidal wave, Kurt could visibly see what had happened yesterday hit him. There was a flash of pain in his eyes, a tremble of the lip-but he clamped them together.

"Good…morning," His voice was like sandpaper.

"How are you?" Kurt carefully asked, not sure if this was the right question.

"I've…been better," Blaine answered, dragging a hand over his eyes. There was such _effort _in his face -it looked Herculean."…But the sun is lovely…"

"Yes, it is," Kurt agreed.

"Grandma loved the sun…" His eyes were suddenly distant. "She always said it was better in Ireland though. The rare times the sun is out, she said there was no more beautiful place on Earth…"

Kurt didn't know what to say, so he kept silent.

"…Ireland is beautiful. Grandma…used to tell me about it. Where she lived before she came to America-Wexford. It's on the south-east coast, a seaside town…Her favourite place…there's this lighthouse, called Hookhead. It's the oldest working lighthouse in Europe. It's black and white striped, looking out to the ocean. Beside it, there are endless rocks, grey and in all these amazing shapes, and they're full of fossils, millions of years old. Grandma used to keep one she found in the bathroom-it's an almost complete fish…the rocks are full of pools of water, with green plants that grow, making the whole place look like the strangest garden in the world. Then there's the ocean-it's deep blue and unspoiled, crashing against the rocks in huge white-foam waves. Sometimes, you can see dolphins and seals, usually just their heads, but sometimes the dolphins leap out of the water and dive back in…there is nothing more stunning than wild dolphins…Grandma used to go there in the evening, park her car and just watch as the sun set, turning the sky dusty pink and the water shimmering like sapphires…she loved it…"

It was like he was telling a story, his eyes vacant and wistful. Kurt listened quietly.

"…she loved the simple things…" Blaine seemed to return to earth, fixing his eyes back on Kurt. To Kurt's amazement, he almost smiled. "She always told me I should be the same. "Why be rich and miserable? The happiest men in the world have nothing but love…" she used to say…I know she was having a dig at my parents! But she was right…she was always right…" Suddenly, his eyes clouded over. "I don't know what I'm going to do without her…"

Kurt pulled him close, folding his arms comfortingly around him. He placed a gentle kiss on his hair, lingering there longer than he needed to. "That's what I'm here for. I'm going to help you get through this. I know it won't be easy-I know it hurts like hell…" he whispered into the curls.

"Grandma never held with sitting around miserable…" Blaine leaned gratefully into Kurt. "She'd have told me to get out into the sun, and appreciate living and being happy…"

"Right, come on, then," Kurt slid off the bed, landing neatly on the ground.

"What are you doing?"

"Come on," Kurt held out a hand. Slowly, Blaine got up, took it, and followed him out of the room. Still in his blue silky pyjamas trimmed with white lace, Kurt lead Blaine in one of Finn's old T-shirts and battered jogging pants, into the back garden. The sky was blue, with only a few fluffy wisps, and the sun was wonderful. Without caring about his hair, or his clothes, Kurt lay down on the grass in the sunniest patch he could find. Blaine gingerly lay down beside him.

"Now. Let's enjoy the sun," Kurt whispered.

Without a word, the two boys looked up at the sky, so weirdly spring-like for December. Despite his total Atheist beliefs, Kurt wondered if there were angels. If Grandma Lucy was an angel now, had she caused this sun? The dew on the grass was like glitter, sparkling as the rays caught it.

"She'd have loved this morning…" Blaine whispered. His voice sounded tear-choked-but his hand squeezed Kurt's surely. "She'd have said the angels were smiling…"

Kurt watched as a thin cloud went by, holding his hand tight.

"Thank you," Blaine murmured.

"Don't mention it, I didn't really do any-"

"Kurt, you did everything . You held my hand…" He sounded like he was trying desperately not to cry again. "Without you, I would be alone…Thank you. My angel…"

**Thank you for reading :') Please review! **

**More to come :')**

**SPOILER: An unwelcome visitor…**

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait, I've been ludicrously busy! But here's Chapter 15, hope it's okay! It was done rather quickly, so sorry if it's not so good**

**Please review if you want to!**

**Thank you to everyone who's recently reviewed, I'd love to have messaged you all individually, but it was playing up (I hate technology!) Thank you, guys, each one means so much! :') :') :')**

**Poor Blaine, he doesn't know what to do :'( **

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxx**

Stood facing the familiar front door, Blaine felt strange. He looked back to the elevator, wishing he hadn't declined Kurt's offer to come with him. But he wanted to do this alone.

Turning his key in the lock, which made it's usual clicking sound, and the door opened to reveal the same white-painted hallway he'd left, waving goodbye to Grandma, just yesterday morning. Blaine couldn't believe it had only been that long. Just twenty-four hours ago, he'd been slouched in Biology, thinking wistfully of getting home. For he'd started thinking of this flat as home.

And now…

Nothing had physically changed within the flat. He was amazed as he stepped into the living room, to find everything exactly where it was. There was not an item out of place, the china models in the glass cabinet still staring blindly out, with not a speck of dust anywhere. There was a half-finished cup of stone-cold tea on the coffee table. The weight that was already in his heart, that pressing rock of hurt that had lodged itself in the worst place, felt heavier as he saw it.

In his life, Blaine's lowest point used to be just after prom at his old school, when those guys had beaten the living crap out of he and his date. The long-term injuries were minor, but he remembered how he felt as the boy's dad dropped him home. Like nothing.

The boy had been fairly cool about it-he was used to it-so Blaine had pretended to be so as well. But when he got back, he'd ran up to his room and cried. He hated crying. He was a comforter. But rare times, he just couldn't stop it. He'd thought that was the worst night of his life.

Well, that night looked almost great now.

There are no words that could describe what he felt. Last night, he'd cried until he'd thought it impossible to cry any more. Now, thanks to his lovely, understanding Kurt, he felt the smallest touch better. Like there was still hope. He'd almost accepted that she'd died, and he'd have to deal with it, however hard it was. Life had to go on. He was putting on a brave face.

But now, the flat was the emptiest place Blaine had ever seen. It wasn't just the absence of the person, but the whole aura was gone. The feeling of comfort, safety and security Blaine had got from the flat since he could remember. The feeling of home. But there was nothing now. It was just a shell. It could have been anyone's flat.

That should have made it easier. But as he looked at that half-empty mug, that white and green mug she always used, he had to swallow hard to stop himself breaking down.

Blaine had come here to grab his stuff, but really, he just wanted to see the place.

Kurt had told him he could stay with him as long as he liked, and he'd meant it. And Blaine would have _loved_ to stay with his boyfriend, but he felt bad. However, he couldn't stay here, either, in this empty flat. It was too much.

Sitting down heavily on the couch, which still had his blankets and pillows on it, he wondered what would happen to the flat. Well, he no longer felt any emotional connection to it, so he shouldn't really care. But he did. It was like saying goodbye to an old friend. He didn't know what he'd do when it came to saying goodbye to Grandma herself…

What would happen about a funeral? Blaine hadn't really thought about it. Should he organise it? He knew what she'd have wanted; a nice church service, simple and neat, but not too sad. And she'd have liked it if he sang…but he didn't think he could bear it.

Collapsing his head in his hands, Blaine let out a long moan. He missed her so much already…

Suddenly, there was a noise behind him. Someone had come into the flat. Head snapping up, Blaine looked around-and almost gasped out loud.

Stood in the doorway of the living room was a very familiar short Pilipino woman with dark hair scraped back in a neat bun and a cream business suit. She wore less make-up than usual, making her face look oddly unfinished. It contracted with an unreadable expression when she laid eyes on her son.

Mrs Anderson.

Now, if Blaine had have made a list of people he'd least want to see, his mother would have been right at the top, along with his father. His gut twisted unpleasantly as they stared wordlessly at each other with identical eyes.

Finally, Mrs Anderson seemed to come back to life. She blinked, and looked at Blaine like he was…a client. A stranger she'd never met, but must talk to. "Hello," she said expressionlessly. "Well…"

"You heard?" Blaine choked out, his throat closed. It was weird seeing her, after not having done so for a while. It was even weirder having her talk to him like a business partner. She showed no emotion, her face a mask.

"Yes. I have been named executor of the will," Blaine couldn't believe how she spoke, like these were lines she'd learned by heart, said a million times before. "Don't…don't you…?" _Care that your mother has died?_

"I have been made executor of the will," she repeated like a railway announcer, never meeting his eyes. The will? Of course. Blaine hadn't thought of that. Like a professional solicitor, Mrs Anderson sat down and pulled a load of papers out of her tan handbag. Looking almost through her son, she spoke in monotone. "To save time, I will just say-" She paused, looking suddenly slightly annoyed. "Lucy left everything to you,"

Blaine blinked. "What?"

"Would you like me to read straight from the will?" she said, like she was impatient.

"No," He frowned. Everything?

"So all money and property is yours "to do with as you see right"," she quoted. Coughing slightly, she continued. "Now, there are some things you need to do for legal reasons…"

Blaine wasn't really listening. Grandma had left everything to him? So the flat was his? He wasn't sure what to think. Well, it was much too soon for him to be considering any of that.

"What about the funeral?" he cut it.

Mrs Anderson looked at him like he was mad-then controlled herself back to her professionalism. "…Oh yes" she said, like she'd forgotten. "Well, you can do…" She waved a manicured hand vaguely.

Suddenly, red-hot anger gripped Blaine, so much it shot out though his mouth. "This is your _mother_!" he shouted.

Mrs Anderson looked taken aback. Just for a second, just half a moment-her eyes wondered to the photos of her younger self still on the mantelpiece, the photos of Grandma. Blaine was breathing hard.

Then, she seemed to recover, her face zipping back to the business-like mask. "We should have this discussion another time. You're obviously very upset-"

"Of _course_ I'm upset! My grandma has just _died_, okay?" The guitarist's voice raised even more. "And how would she feel if she knew her _daughter_-her _only_ daughter-that she'd wanted so bad and had to go through so much to get-doesn't give a _damn_!"

There was an endless silence. Blaine glared at his mother-though he used the term loosely-, never dropping his gaze.

Mrs Anderson stared right back, her expression impossible to read. Her lips squeezed together, like she was trying not to say something. But in her eyes-Blaine saw nothing but cold.

Suddenly-he _hated _her.

Looking at this woman he'd loved so much, even through everything-he felt nothing. He thought of Grandma, and couldn't believe how icy someone could be, how unfeeling about their _mother's,_ whom they'd never bothered with- death. How _cruel. _Mrs Anderson didn't even seem human. There were no emotions in her.

Like now. After another second-she dropped down and began putting everything neatly back in her bag. As if she hadn't heard a word Blaine had said.

Insides contorted with loathing, Blaine couldn't comprehend it. How could anyone be like this? He had no words.

As she started to leave, heels making small dents in the carpet, Blaine said, barely thinking, his voice dangerously soft: "Don't come back,"

Mrs Anderson stopped in her tracks. She stood, still as a statue, halfway out the door. The clock ticked rhythmically, the only sound in the room, which was silent as a grave.

Then, she turned back-and to Blaine's astonishment-tears were cascading down her face. Suddenly, her face was contorted with grief and desperation, as she looked at her son. Make-up created black lines as tears flowed. Blaine was taken aback by this quick change-but now…the whole atmosphere had changed. She couldn't have looked more different with a new face. It was like the porcelain mask had shattered, revealing the genuine person trapped beneath.

"Please come home, Blaine,"

The voice was thin, barely more than a whisper, but so hopeless, like a cry. Suddenly, Mrs Anderson looked like a woman who'd lost everything. Her whole body looked like it had shrank. She looked so grieved, so lonely…like Blaine was her son.

Blaine's heart sank. His heart-strings were pulling like church bells. He was in shock. What? Did she just say she wanted him to come home, after kicking him out? Just like that?

A tiny glimmer of his old feeling for her crept back, screaming for him to run straight to her, to hug her like he did as a child, to stop her crying, to go home.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do it. How could four words make up for everything? This woman had been telling him not long ago that he was disgusting, that she wanted nothing to do with him, that she wanted him out. And as for his father…

But he looked at her, the broken woman stood before him, her hazel eyes begging. He was torn.

"Just…" Tears heaved behind his eyes-_no_. He would _not_ cry in front of her. "Just go," he rushed, turning away. He couldn't look at her.

**Thank you for reading, more soon! I promise they'll be more Klaine fluffiness! :')**

**SPOILER: Blaine goes all Cinderella on us…**

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxx**


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey there," Kurt turned into the hall to find his boyfriend hard at work dusting the skirting board. He'd been doing housework all morning; vacuumed every room , cleaned the entire kitchen and all the bathrooms, tidied the living room and helped Finn clean the car. "You now, you don't have to become the live-in cleaner just because you're staying here, although Carole loves you for it,"

Putting down the dusting cloth, Blaine looked up at his boyfriend. His eyes looked red-but he smiled as best he could. Kurt could see the effort in his face to make this action work, and felt an acute twang of sadness. "I don't mind," Blaine said, his voice slightly cracking.

"I do. You're turning into Cinderella. Next you'll be making friends with mice and wearing impractical shoes," Kurt giggled.

Blaine grinned weakly. "Hey, you're the Disney princess here,"

Sitting down beside him, Kurt leaned his head on his shoulder. "Obviously. But I'm more of a Snow White. You can totally be Cinderella,"

"It sounds like an illness," Blaine was almost laughing. For the first time in a while. "You know, I've never really considered which Disney princess I am before…surprisingly," he said, nudging his boyfriend.

"I have," Kurt liked the way this conversation was going; his boyfriend was nearly smiling properly. "I think I'm definitely Snow White,"

"Hmmm…I'd be Belle, I think…Or Mulan…Or Ariel; it would be so cool to be a mermaid,"

"I think you suit Cinderella," Kurt wrapped his arms tightly around him. "Life hasn't been great to you recently, but you try to carry on…" More cheerfully, he added: "And you look great in sky blue, you're kind to animals…"

"…I'm a bit annoying after a while…"

"No, no, no," Kurt nudged him back. "Cinderella's nowhere near as annoying as Snow White,"

"Well, we can be annoying together," Blaine snuggled into him, still knelt on the floor.

"We are totally insert-princess-here and Prince Charming…" Kurt grinned. "Will and K-"

"Oh _God_!" Blaine pretended to clutch his ears in agony. "Not more British Royal Family!"

What followed was a brief shoving contest which turned into a full-scale tickling match. There were screams and squeals as they rolled around the floor, a tangle of arms and legs, childishly yelling "I win!" every few seconds and wrestling playfully all over the hall. Kurt was soon reduced to a mess of helpless giggling. Normally, he hated being tickled-but now, his boyfriend looked almost normal, laughing, and his eyes shone genuinely.

Finally, Kurt managed to pin Blaine to the floor, locking his arms. "I am victorious!"

"Meh," Blaine let his hands go limp. He seemed to shrink a little, after the excitement, remembering…but although his eyes were more dull, they did not go completely dead. He was coping better than Kurt had thought he would.

"You know, all this housework you're doing makes me want to marry you!" the countertenor smiled, poking him in the ribs.

"I'd like th-" The guitarist stopped himself abruptly. Looking down, he started to blush, biting his lip.

Kurt coughed awkwardly, pretending he understood Blaine had merely spoken without thinking-when his heart had just gone into overdrive, blasting off into outer space…

"Huh," Blaine took a heavy breath. "Sorry,"

"What for?" Kurt tried to keep his voice level and normal, like nothing had happened. Blaine's eyes had gone all squinty, like when he sang or when he was embarrassed. Quickly, Kurt giggled a little, trying to laugh it off. But Blaine still looked like he was kicking himself.

"You know…" Kurt said gently. "I always wanted a spring wedding…"

Oh no. That just made it more awkward.

"Really?" Blaine said, trying to turn this back into a normal conversation.

"Yeah…I like it when there's blossom on the trees, and it's not cold, but not too hot either…"

"Hmm…" Blaine was still looking down.

"I always wanted pink roses and white orchids…"

"Me too!" the guitarist answered a little too quickly in his surprise-then caught himself. "They're…so pretty…" He coughed awkwardly.

"Yeah…I've sort of been dreaming of my wedding my whole life!" Kurt laughed. _Particularly since I met you, Blaine. _

"Hmm…it's sad, but…since I saw _Cinderella_…me too," Blaine laughed a little. "This is mad. I've got a funeral to organise, yet we're talking about weddings!" He smiled-then looked down. Kurt bit his tongue-he'd have happily talked about weddings all day, but of course. Blaine had bigger things on his mind right now.

"Funny…I've got no idea where to start!" Blaine was trying to smile-but there were clearly the beginnings of tears behind his eyes. Kurt took both his hands firmly.

"Sweetheart, I've organised two funerals pretty much single-handedly,"

"Two? There was Jean Sylvester…"

"And Pavarotti," Kurt reminded him.

"Pavarotti?" Blaine looked almost amused. "Oh, yeah…so…will you help me?"

"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine," Kurt stroked his face gently. "Of course,"

"Great," Blaine looked relieved. "But first…I need to give you this,"

Kurt held his breath as his boyfriend lent forward and kissed him slowly on the lips. It was a sweet, simple kiss, but Kurt realised this was their first since the brief make-out session at lunch time in the music store cupboard before they found out about Grandma Lucy's death. It seemed so long ago. Happily, Kurt leant back and enjoyed it.

As Kurt was called by his father and had to reluctantly leave, his head swam with dizzy joy. If only it could be like this forever. Housework, sweet conversation, talk of weddings, kisses…Someday, far in the future…he pictured he and Blaine's wedding, perfect and wonderful. Now, all his childish dreams of his Prince Charming and a fairytale ending seemed utterly possible…

Quietly, Kurt began to sing under his breath, the song that had been in his head all day…

"_Some day my prince will come…_

_Some day we'll meet again _

_And away to his castle we'll go_

_To be happy forever I know…"_

His clear, pretty voice rose as he descended the staircase.

"_Someday when spring is here_

_We'll find our love anew_

_And the birds will sing_

_And wedding bells will ring_

_Someday when my dreams come true-"_

"Hey, Kurt?" came Burt Hummel's voice from the kitchen. "That's all great, but could you come a little quicker, please?"

The countertenor heard Blaine snigger from upstairs as his cheeks flushed pink. Trying to maintain some dignity, he lowered his arms and proceeded forward quickly.

"Honestly, you kids and your spontaneous singing…" Burt was saying. "I don't know…"

Blaine flicked the dusting cloth, grinning and shaking his head. He'd been enjoying Kurt's rendition of the Snow White song, and had been about to come in with Prince Charming's part. Today, his head felt clearer, even after the business with his mother yesterday. He hadn't heard from her since-something he was glad of.

He'd have to organise this funeral. Grandma deserved a good send-off. He was already planning in his head-but part of him still ached with hurt at how his mother had acted about the funeral. Like she wanted nothing to do with it at all. Grandma would have wanted her there, no question-but would she even turn up?

If Blaine was honest with himself, he wasn't sure how he was going to cope with it. He'd thought he'd been handling this pretty well, but the actual funeral? Saying goodbye for the last time?

It would be easier with Kurt there. Kurt, his sweet Kurt, who was trying so hard to keep his life as normal as possible, held him at night when he cried, was always there when he needed him…without him, Blaine didn't know if he'd have just given up altogether.

He was so grateful to him for letting him stay there. Otherwise, he'd probably be in that empty, silent, lonely flat now...

The flat was his now. But he didn't know if he wanted to keep it. Could he stand being there, knowing it was where Grandma had been, minutes before she'd started towards work and collapsed?

Then again, he didn't really want to sell, or rent it out. Despite everything, that place held some of his happiest childhood memories…most in fact…

Maybe, if he wasn't there alone…

Blaine's heart hammered…then he shook his head, deleting the image before he could become too fond of it. No way would he and Kurt moving in together work. There was money, for starters. And their ages. Not to mention what Kurt's father would think of the idea…but Blaine couldn't help imagining…

And anyway, what would Kurt himself make of the idea?

He'd love it.

Furiously dusting, Blaine wondered why life could never be simple.

**Thank you for reading :') More soon :')**

**Okay guys, I'm in a bit of a dilemma and would really like your input as to what you want to see happen now; I'm playing with a few ideas. So: Do you guys want Kurt and Blaine to move in together? Please review with your thoughts, I'd love to hear loads of opinions on this xD **

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey everyone: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! In England anyway :')**

**:') PS: I do not own the song that is played in this chapter. Also, I know I've changed a few of the words and skipped out a chunk, but I was trying to make this beautiful song more relevant. **

**This chapter is for Don Pedro-happy birthday, darling! xxxxx**

**Thank you for reading, as always, and please review! :') Thank you! **

A week later, everything had been organised by Kurt's efficient notepad, and the small church was filled, the buzz of small talk low. The atmosphere was strange-Kurt remembered his mother's funeral as being the saddest occasion he'd ever been to. The air here was more of a wistful sadness, a life that had been lived well, and had come to an end suddenly, but a long, full life, brimming with love. There was a lot of people-Grandma Lucy had so many friends, and was the sort of person everyone knew, so the little church was pretty full. Her sister and four brothers had crossed over from Ireland, with their children and _their_ children. Blaine hadn't been kidding about his huge Irish family. There were at least thirty of them, the eldest older than Grandma Lucy, the youngest about three, not really knowing hat's going on an dashing around in the aisle, chased by a seven-year-old cousin. Kurt had scanned the room-but there was no sign of Mr or Mrs Anderson. Maybe it was better that way.

The O'Malloys were a loud, cheerful family, very Irish and very friendly. Blaine had not met them that many times, but sometimes Kurt was amazed they weren't blood-related. Danny, a fifteen-year-old cousin, even played guitar nearly as well as Blaine, and they'd had a happy jamming session when he'd arrived. Blaine's Great-Aunt Siobhan was so remarkably like her sister, Kurt could see it bothered his boyfriend-but he didn't show it, chatting happily to her, hearing all about Ireland. Edie, a six-year-old granddaughter of Siobhan, had taken to following Blaine everywhere like a duckling, wanting piggybacks every thirty seconds and chatting nineteen to the dozen. Kurt happily fussed over her, and she'd been delighted when he'd done her hair prettily for today. It turned out Edie's father, Blaine's uncle, was just as obsessed with Harry Potter as Blaine, so they got on like a house on fire. Everyone did, in fact.

Kurt had been a little worried at the crucifixes that hung around half of the family's necks, but Blaine had introduced him as his boyfriend right away, and no one had batted an eyelid. They were all keen to get to know Blaine, obviously feeling they'd missed out on his growing up. After just a few hours, it was like they'd been living together forever. Blaine looked fully comfortable with them, so Kurt was relaxed too. There was only one awkward moment when Grandma Lucy's niece Fiona, a tall woman with dark hair, had turned up in the same shirt as the countertenor, but they'd laughed it off. Kurt was convinced he'd worn it better anyway.

There hadn't really been much to organise for today; Grandma Lucy wouldn't have wanted a fuss, so everything had been kept simple, and not too sad. He'd decorated the front area of the church with shamrocks, tasteful and subtle, and pictures of Hookhead lighthouse in Ireland that she'd been so fond of. He'd found a picture of her wedding from all those years ago, where she looked young and radiant, next to a tall, good-looking man with curly ginger hair. It had been stood on a table, next to a photograph of she and Blaine. Blaine hadn't even protested.

Kurt was currently stood just inside the door of the church, waiting for his boyfriend to return. The ceremony was going to start in ten minutes, but Blaine had gone for a walk, refusing anyone's offer to go with him. He'd been finding it really hard, since he'd said goodbye to her last night, before they'd closed the coffin. After being quiet all evening, he hadn't slept at all. There had been huge, dark circles under his eyes when he'd turned down breakfast this morning. He'd kept pacing up and down, not talking to anyone. Kurt was really worried about how he'd take today; he knew how hard it was…

Slowly, a long, dark car pulled into view, followed by Blaine's Great-Uncle Patrick's silver hire car, which contained Grandma Lucy's brothers and sister. Clearly visible inside the hearse was a light wood coffin, heaped with flowers, big wreaths spelling out "GRANDMA". Kurt's heart sank a little when he saw it.

"Kurt?" He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, a familiar voice saying his name. The countertenor spun around to see his boyfriend, hair windswept, eyes very red. Blaine looked devastated, nervous, scared and anxious all that once. You could almost see his head spinning with the confused thoughts. He looked from Kurt to the coffin, being slowly carried up the path, and almost staggered a little. "Kurt, I don't know if I can do this," His voice was thin, almost not like his own at all.

"Yes you can, If you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life," He felt the guitarist's quick, nervous breaths against his cheek. "Come on. You'll feel better for it, I promise," Firmly, he took his hand. After a few seconds, Blaine allowed Kurt to lead him inside. The countertenor brought him up to the front, and sat him down next to his Aunt Sally, who patted his other hand comfortingly. Kurt gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, and was just about to leave to go to the back-when Blaine gripped his hand tightly.

"Don't go,"

"Blaine, only family should be-"

"Please," He looked up at him, his golden honey-coloured eyes begging. Kurt looked at the O'Malloys who sat around. No one seemed to mind, and Aunt Sally gave him a nod. So, feeling wrong-footed, the countertenor sat down beside him. Blaine held Kurt's hand in both of his clammy, slightly shaking ones, so tight Kurt thought it might break.

A few minutes later, the gentle organ music started, and everyone stood up. Behind him, Kurt could hear Grandma Lucy's brothers enter, bearing the coffin between them. As they reached the front, Blaine's iron grip tightened, and Kurt could hear him breathing raggedly. Carefully putting her down, each brother leaned down and touched the coffin tenderly in turn, some blinking back tears, before filing into their seats. Great-Uncle Robert patted Blaine's knee comfortingly as he passed.

"Family and friends," Father McJacobs had stood up in the pulpit at the front, just beside the coffin. He was a kind-looking man with thinning brown hair and he'd been aquatinted with Grandma Lucy in the past, so he could deliver the service from the heart. He looked solemn, but peaceful. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Lucy Susannah O'Malloy…"

It as a lovely service, very personal. There wasn't too much religion involved, more, like Father McJacobs said, a celebration of her long, happy life. The eulogy was read by Blaine's Great Uncle Sam, and he'd obviously put a lot of thought into it. It talked of everything "my dear sister" had achieved, her husband, how she was so loved by everyone.

"She was one in a million," Sam stopped for a second, swallowing hard. "She was a loving wife, sister, and mother to Nicole, who is not here today…but Lucy loved her with all her heart, and always was there for her, whether Nicole realised it or not," He looked a little annoyed here, but contained it well. "Nicole does not know what she's lost…I don't think any of us do just yet…

"However, I think the loss of Lucy is felt very acutely by one person in particular. My sister was also a loving grandmother to a wonderful young man, who has been going through a lot lately…and I think he'd like to say a few words…"

Kurt was confused-this wasn't in the plan! But Blaine was standing up, and walking toward the microphone, looking pale and ill. His hand slipped from Kurt's as he left the seat.

"Lucy was a treasure, and will be dearly missed by all who knew her," Sam finished. He stepped down, patting Blaine on the shoulder as he stepped up.

The guitarist made no sound for a few seconds. Kurt held his breath-he looked like he was about to faint. But then, he blinked hard, held his head high, and began.

"I'd…just like to say something…but I'm not very good with words," His voice still sounded odd, but he carried on determinedly. "So…this was one of Grandma's favourite songs, and…" He bent down, and brought up his beloved guitar, strapping it over his shoulder. "I wanted to sing this for her," Looking directly down at the coffin, his mouth played into a small, sad smile. "She loved this song…it's also very personal to me at the moment…

"Through everything that's happened to me, I have had two angels…and one of them was Grandma. She believed in angels…and now I believe, wherever she is, she is one…"

Now, he directly addressed his grandmother, his voice cracking a little. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, and how happy our time was together. You were…the person I have always depended on, and you never asked for one thing in return. You were strong, and you never complained, and you were always so loving and generous. I hope I can be half as great a person as you were. You inspired me to hold my head high and appreciate the world for what it is…and you made it even more beautiful…So Grandma…this is for you,"

He positioned his guitar, and began to play, tenderly, but with so much feeling and emotion. It was beautiful…

"_Spend all your time waiting for that second chance_

_For a break that would make it okay_

_There's always some reason to feel not good enough_

_And it's hard at the end of the day_

_I need some distraction, oh, a beautiful release _

_Memory seeps from my veins_

_Let me be empty, and weightless and maybe_

_I'll find some peace tonight…"_

He walked gently down to the coffin, his voice soft, but strong.

"_In the arms of the angels_

_Fly away from here_

_From this dark, cold hotel room_

_And the endlessness that we fear_

_You are pulled from the wreckage _

_Of your silent reverie _

_You're in the arms of the angels_

_May you find some comfort there…"_

Now, there were small, quiet sobs in the room. Kurt's own eyes were welling up, and he could see Blaine's were as well, but he carried on, surely and truly.

"_It don't make no difference, escaping one last time_

_It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh_

_This glorious sadness, that brings me to my knees…_

_In the arms of the angels_

_Fly away from here_

_From this dark, cold hotel room_

_And the endlessness that we fear_

_You are pulled from the wreckage _

_Of your silent reverie _

_You're in the arms of the angels_

_May you find some comfort there…"_

A tear slid down his face as he played the last few bars.

"_You're in the arms of the angels_

_May you find some comfort there…"_

He broke down as the last chord rang, and as Kurt went to him, pulling him close, he whispered, his voice choked with tears. "I love you, Grandma…"

As he held him tightly, gently leading him back to his seat, Kurt noticed a note, handwritten in blue italic writing, similar to Blaine's, pinned to one of the many wreaths of flowers:

_Mum…love Your Nicole xxxx_

**Thank you for reading, and keeping with me! **

**SPOILER: (thank you for the idea for this slight change, TheLuciferPerson! Much thanks, and you will be credited! xxxx) Kurt takes matters into his own hands…**

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the short chapter, but hope you enjoy! :D xxx**

"…so I totally think Mr Schue is being a real pain in the butt about the songs we choose. I mean, I do my best to chocolate-coat them, but there's only so much can be done with Barbra Striesand and T-Rex singing every single number…you okay, boy?"

Kurt's head jerked up-he'd almost forgotten he was still with Mercedes, curled up on the couch at his house. His thoughts had been downstairs in the basement, with his still-sleeping boyfriend. It was almost noon, but Kurt didn't have the heart to wake him. This was probably the first time he'd slept properly since his grandmother had died. The funeral last week _had_ helped-he was singing quietly under his breath around the house again, which was a good sign. He was on the way to recovery.

But one thing bugged the countertenor. He hadn't forgotten about the flowers Mrs Anderson had sent for the funeral. She hadn't attended in person, but the flowers showed she cared. If she still cared for the mother she'd deserted, would she still care for the son she'd abandoned too? If only he could talk to her-

"Kurt?" Mercedes waved a hand in front of his face. "Wakey wakey?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, 'Cedes," Kurt apologised.

"Honestly, it's like you leave your body sometimes…I know that boy of yours is still sleeping, but that doesn't mean you need to be unconscious too,"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I guess I've just had a lot on my-"

Suddenly, an R&B song blasted out of his friend's pocket, making them both jump. "Hold on a sec," Mercedes took out her Blackberry and checked the caller ID. "Oh, it's work, I have to take this,"

The diva had a Saturday job at a posh hair salon. From what Kurt could gather, she spent most of the time sweeping the floor and making coffee, but the money wasn't bad.

"Hello?…yes…oh, come on, it's Sunday!…hell to the no…no, no, it's alright, I'll come in…Mrs Wells…and Mrs Anderson rescheduled?"

Kurt's heart stopped. His head snapped up, hardly daring to believe the possible coincidence as Mercedes put the phone down. "Sorry, honey, I have to go in to work," she sighed. "Hey-what's with you?"

"Mrs Anderson's first name isn't Nicole, is it?" The ghost of a chance…

"Urm…Nicolette, something like that…"

Springing to his feet, the countertenor's brain had begun to whirr, plotting and scheming with a _golden_ plan…

"Mercedes, you have to help me!"

"Okay, easy, tiger…what?"

Kurt rushed out his battle plan in one breath, explaining the situation and outlining the details. When he'd finished, Mercedes looked shocked-and impressed. She smiled, shaking her head.

"Mr Hummel, you devious little-"

"Devious?" came a voice from behind. It was Blaine, dressed in his old red sweater and softest blue jeans, his hair still curly and free of gel. He smiled at Kurt, who smiled back, waving to him as he approached. The guitarist's eyes had almost lost their tired, sleepless look as he pulled Kurt into a hug. "What are you up to now, baby?"

"Oh, nothing," the countertenor said lightly, kissing him. "Just my plans for world domination,"

"Ah yes," Blaine rocked him gently from side to side, as if dancing. "_When I rule the world, I'll plant flowers…_"he sang, half laughing.

"Someone's in a good mood today, mister," Kurt was thrilled he seemed so happy this morning.

"Mercedes!" the guitarist exclaimed, pulling her into the hug too. "How are you?"

"I'm good, and how are you doing?" she asked more tenderly.

"Well, you know…I've got to keep living! Otherwise he'd have died and come back to save us for nothing,"

Mercedes looked pleasantly surprised. "I didn't know you were religious!"

"No, no, I mean Harry Potter,"

Laughing at Mercedes' confused, shocked face, Kurt went in for another kiss, and his boyfriend was all too happy to oblige. He leaned blissfully into him, drinking in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo, and thinking how lucky he was to have Blaine…

"Eh hem?" came a voice from what seemed like light-years away. "Still here?"

Slowly, the countertenor came back to reality. "Sorry, 'Cedes," Blaine apologised sheepishly, not taking his eyes off Kurt. "I was just thinking about how adorable my boyfriend is…"

Giggling a little, Kurt smiled even wider, feeling warm and nice.

"You know, I think I might just wait in the car," Mercedes pretended to be annoyed, but was grinning. "See ya in a few, lover boy," She winked at Kurt, before leaving towards the front door.

"Oh no, where are you going? You're leaving me?" Blaine widened his eyes in a puppy-dog look.

"You don't mind, do you? I can stay if you need me? Will you be okay? What if-"

"Baby," Blaine was laughing a little now, stroking his cheek gently. "Chill. I'm kidding,"

"Okay," Kurt relaxed a little.

"But make sure you're not home late-I'm taking you out to dinner,"

"Oh, honey, you don't have to-"

"I would _love_ to," Blaine's tone was insistent as he cupped the countertenor's face in his hands. "We haven't been out on a proper date forever," He kissed him again, and Kurt lost all sense of place and time. When the kiss was over, he wouldn't let it end, immediately beginning another. He placed his hands over Blaine's, which held his waist, and leaned closer, pressing into him as the kisses got faster, more intense. He heard Blaine moan slightly as he applied more pressure, wishing the guitarist would hold him even tighter…

"Mercedes is waiting," murmured Blaine as he snatched a breath a few minutes later.

"Don't care," Kurt whispered, kissing him again, ignoring the impatient diva's beeping horn outside. They continued for a few more precious, all-to-short minutes, finding extra, fleeting seconds.

"Come on, babe, we'll pick this up later," Blaine reluctantly broke the kiss. But the countertenor wasn't giving in so easily.

"Blainey…" he moaned, going in for another-but the guitarist put a finger over Kurt's lips.

"It'll be more special if you have to wait!" he teased.

"Every kiss with you is special…and _Mercedes_ can wait,"

"No, she won't. She has to get to work, remember?"

Suddenly, Kurt remembered his _plan_. He had a mother to ambush…Begrudgingly, he unfolded himself from his boyfriend. "We are most definitely continuing this later. Bye, pookie," he said, heading towards the front door.

"Pookie? That's a new one," the guitarist grinned. "What is a pookie?"

"You are my pookie, Blaine," Kurt teased. "I think I should definitely call you that in front of Wes and David,"

"It just makes me think of _RENT_!" He put his hands up to look like paws. "_Kiss, pookie_,"

"Oh my! I hadn't thought of that!"

"Never mind. Have fun, beautiful, see you later,"

"Bye!" Kurt blew his boyfriend a kiss before dashing out of the door to face a very fed-up Mercedes. In his mind, he went over his scheme. Now, to finally meet Mrs Nicole Anderson…

**Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and please review! Thank you! :D**

**SPOILER: Kurt confronts Mrs Anderson…and Blaine has a big question to ask his boyfriend…**

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxxx**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey everyone :') I promised a longer chapter, so here it is!**

**Oooh, the drama indeed! :')**

**Welcome to the most security-lax hair salon in the world, where anyone can prentend to work there…it's Glee, anything can happen xD**

**Enjoy, and please review! :') Every review makes my day**

Nervously, Kurt sat on the sideboard in the pink hair salon T-shirt Mercedes had snuck him, over his white skinny jeans, swinging his legs. His eyes kept darting anxiously over to the door.

"Come on, she's not due here for another ten minutes," Mercedes sighed, leaning on her sweeping brush. "You _could _help me,"

"I'm not getting paid," breezed Kurt lightly, sticking his tongue out at her.

"You know what, I may just break this broom over your pretty little head, white boy," The diva menacingly waved the brush at him-when they were interrupted by a cute, high-pitched giggle behind them. Looking around simultaneously, they saw a little girl with blond ringlets and rosy cheeks, sat on one of the wooden chairs at the side. Clearly, she was waiting for a woman having her hair done in a chair nearby, who judging by her similar looks had to be her mom. She was dressed in a little denim pinafore dress with a daisy appliquéd on the front pocket, over a colourful stripy shirt, with white tights and tiny white trainers. In her starfish hand, she held a silver fairy wand. Despite her golden curls, her eyes were strikingly chocolate brown, a wonderful contrast. The cute dimples as she laughed at them, like silver bells, completed the vision of childish adorableness.

"Hello!" Mercedes smiled brightly at her. "How you doing?" Suddenly, the little girl was shy, looking down at her lap and clasping her tiny hands.

"You've scared her, 'Cedes," Kurt grinned, jabbing his best friend in the ribs. The little girl looked up, a timid smile playing around her lips. She seemed to find them fascinating. Almost as shyly himself, Kurt gave her a little wave. To his surprise-she hesitated-then waved back.

"Awh, look, she likes you!" Mercedes giggled. The little girl was still staring at him. He was a bit unsure about this-should he go over and chat to her?

"Go on, she's dying for you to go say hello! She's probably bored out of her skull," The diva gave him a little push towards her.

Alright, what's the worst that could happen? Cautiously, he crossed over, neatly avoiding piles of hair on the floor that Mercedes hadn't swept up yet. Luckily, the little girl looked delighted.

"Hey, sweetie," he said as he reached her. Wearing his kindest smile, he carefully sat down beside her, crossing one leg neatly over the other.

"Hi," she squeaked in a mouse-voice, looking at her shoes, but still smiling.

"What's your name?" he asked brightly, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual-why did people do that when talking to kids?

After a moment, she answered: "My name is Lily," Her voice still had a slight lisp. "and I'm three and a half years old," she added proudly.

"Wow," His thoughts immediately zapped to Lily Potter-God, he was turning into Blaine… "That's a lovely name,"

Lily looked up and smiled right at him, her eyes shining like he'd paid her a massive compliment. In that moment, he learned that the smile of a child is contagious. He couldn't help but smile back at her.

"You're pretty," she told him, studying his face.

Kurt's smile widened, a warm feeling in his chest. "Thank you, sweetie. So are you," Somehow, being called pretty by an adorable little girl he'd never met seemed so special.

Reaching up a warm little hand, she gently touched his cheek, almost curiously. "Pretty," she repeated. "Like a princess in my book,"

The countertenor almost laughed-he couldn't seem to get away from princesses recently. "Are you a princess, Lily?" he asked her.

"No-I'm a fairy!" She waved her wand to demonstrate. "Pixie Dust!"

"Oh yes!" Kurt was surprised at how much he was enjoying talking to her. There was something about her innocence he found so endearing. He wasn't really the sort of person who stopped to fuss over a cute baby or toddler at the mall, but now he wondered why not.

"I'm going to Neverland," she informed him, seeming ever more chatty.

"It sounds great there, doesn't it? All the mermaids and pirates…"

"And Tinkerbell!" Lily reached into her pocket and brought out a crumpled piece of paper. She unfolded it, and painstakingly scribbled with green, pink and yellow crayons was what was clearly an attempt at drawing the fairy. "Tinkerbell!"

"Wow!" Kurt admired the sketch, remembering how he used to sit for hours colouring Disney characters. "That's way better than anything I ever drew!"

Giggling, Lily looked delighted. "Can't you draw?"

"Nope," Kurt grinned. "I know someone who can though…" He thought of that pencil sketch of Blaine's he treasured, pinned carefully up in his locker at school… "And now I know _two_ people!"

Lily's grin stretched even more. She looked down at the crumpled page. "Hey, since you can't draw, why don't you have this one?"

The countertenor's eyes widened. "Oh, sweetie, I couldn't-"

"Yes!" The little girl pushed it into his hands.

"Oh no, not your special drawing-" Weirdly, he almost felt like crying. _Awwhh!_

"I've got a better one at home," she told him. "This one is yours,"

"Oh!" Kurt looked down at the paper in his hands, a warm glow in his chest. "Thank you so much!" There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes-this was so _cute_! "You know what? I'm going to put this right up in my locker at school, with all my other special pictures,"

He was rewarded with the kind of smile that made his entire day.

Five minutes later, Lily had climbed onto his lap and was telling him all about her goldfish. He was amazed at how naturally this talking to kids came to him-he didn't even seem patronising. She was a charming little girl, who obviously was aware she was cute and knew how to use it to her advantage already.

"_Aww_, Kurtykins made a _friend_!" Mercedes teased him from across the room. "Your _first_ friend," she snickered.

"Kurtykins" retaliated with a strikingly evil death-stare, before switching back to his friendly smile as Lily reached up and gently pulled a lock of his hair. Now, if that had been anyone else touching his hair, maybe even Blaine, he'd have burned them alive. But now, he let her play with his brunette tresses without batting an eyelid. Mercedes gaped, eyes comically popping at the sight. Winking at the shocked diva, Kurt listened to Lily chatting about her big sister at "big school", ie, Middle School. She never seemed to run out of things to say. The countertenor was astounded at how much he was enjoying this.

"Hello, darling, did you make a friend?" The woman who was unmistakably her mother had finished her salon treatment, and had approached them with a friendly smile. She looked apologetically at Kurt. "Hope she wasn't interfering with your work!"

Just in time before he corrected her, he remembered he was masquerading as an employee. "Oh no, she's absolutely fine,"

"Come on then, honey," The woman held out her arms to her daughter-but Lily clung onto Kurt, obviously not wanting to leave. The countertenor was really touched, although the little girl's mother gave a long-suffering sigh. "Come on, sweetie, go with Mommy," Gently, and slowly, he prised her off, and she reluctantly held onto her mother.

"Bye bye," she lisped, waving.

"Bye, cutie," Kurt waved her off as she left the shop. He could hear her talking to her mom as they exited:

"That boy was pretty-and he can't draw…"

Leaning back on the chair, Kurt felt warm and nice inside-and a little broody.

"I want a baby," he told Mercedes as she passed with her brush. The diva looked concernedly at him.

"That was random,"

"Not really…" The countertenor sighed a little.

Suddenly, Mercedes looked up to the door. "Hang on, before you and Blaine get busy, hadn't you better talk to his mother?"

Springing to his feet like he'd been burned, Kurt's gut began to churn nervously-as a small Pilipino woman with dark hair in a neat bun, dressed in a light pink suit with a large flower pinned to the jacket, entered the salon. Her black spotted five-inch heels clicked across the floor as she walked dignifiedly over to the counter. She looked sort of severe-but those golden eyes meant she couldn't be anyone else's mother. A shot of nerves bulleted through him, tainting his mind with doubts-what should he actually say to her? His grand, genius plan had only really taken him this far. God, she looked intimidating-should he just leg it right now?

No. He had to do this. For Blaine.

"Hey, Mercedes, could you shampoo Mrs Anderson here?" called her colleague.

"Yeah!" the diva called back, adopting a friendly can-I-help-you-smile-while making frantic gestures at Kurt behind her back to follow. Stomach churning, he took heed and went after her as she lead Mrs Anderson over to the chair before the weird basin-sink thing where they wash hair.

"If you'll just put this on for me, ma'am?" Mercedes asked Blaine's mother politely, holding out the strange gown that stopped your clothes getting wet, and she did so. Knowing the ropes, she sat down in the chair as Mercedes put a towel around her shoulders and carefully guided her head back. All of a sudden- "Huh?" the diva called over to no one. "Okay, coming! Kurt, could you take over, please?" she asked professionally, handing him the correct shampoo and conditioner-with a wink. Kurt was in total awe of her clever improvisation. He mouthed _I love you_, before she dashed off into the back room.

After a second's fumbling, he worked out how to turn on the water and adjusted it to the right temperature. Carefully, his hands shaking a little, he took down her bun and began to shower water on her hair.

She was silent. He needed her to talk.

"So…you doing anything nice this week?" he asked conversationally as he began to massage shampoo in.

"Not really…" she answered. Kurt could pick out Blaine's voice deep in hers. He could almost see her brain working as she concluded: _This guy is gay. _

"Ah…" Kurt cut off. She wasn't exactly making this easy. He couldn't believe this was the woman he had been inwardly cursing for weeks-and now he was washing her hair. That was crazy. "Urm…that's a lovely bracelet," he complimented, looking at the silver band glinting at her slim wrist.

"Thank you," Her voice was pretty monotone, as if she'd rather he wasn't talking to her, but he had to persist.

"Where did you get it?"

"It was a birthday present from my husband," she answered, opening her eyes to look up at him. He made his face into a professional, helpful smile. Usually, the dimples were enough to melt any woman's heart (Finn said they were wasted on a gay guy), but evidently Mrs Anderson would not be that easy. Her expression was impossible to read.

"Oh…that's nice," Picking the showerhead thing back up, he began to rinse out the shampoo. "How long have you been married?"

"Eighteen years," By her expression, it was not an exiting, or happy marriage.

Dare he ask? This was a sure-fire way to get to the point, and probably wouldn't arouse suspicion, but did he have the nerve?

He must.

"Any kids?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual-whilst dreading the answer.

Mrs Anderson was silent for a moment. Her pencilled eyebrows suddenly knitted together slightly, like she was in pain. The countertenor waited anxiously, a mess of nerves and fear.

"N-…well…" Unexpectedly, her mask expression now looked bothered. Even, deep down, hidden-upset? "Yes. I have a son,"

Trying not to show it, Kurt breathed a huge sigh of relief, feeling like a tight belt had just unbuckled. He was terrified she would say she didn't, then there would have been no hope. But she'd said herself she had a son. Now. Where to go from here?

"Awwwh," Kurt smiled, like he was expecting this son to be about five. "How old is he?" He thanked his acting training that he was able to be convincing.

Mrs Anderson hesitated for a second. Kurt could see something was stopping her talking about him. "He's…seventeen,"

"Ah," The countertenor began to massage in conditioner. "Which high school does he go to?"

"Dalt-I mean William McKinley," He could see she sniffed a little, as if she disapproved. Doing a big theatrical double-take, Kurt gave a false squeak of surprise.

"Oh! Me too! What's his name?"

This, Mrs Anderson seemed even more reluctant to admit. That was a bad sign-but Kurt had to keep going. "…Blaine Anderson," she said, after a moment.

Her tone of voice when she said his name was odd. Suddenly, a little of the monotone was gone. Replacing it-there was a hint of almost a _moan_? A sad, longing _moan_? Like…

"Urm…nope, don't think I know him," the countertenor lied.

There was silence for a few minutes as he finished her hair, and tried to think where the heck to go from here. As he finished-he looked down at her, about to out of desperation quiz her on favourite shoe designers, just to keep her talking-and got the shock of his life.

Coursing down Mrs Anderson's face, tainted grey with make-up-were large tears.

"Mrs Anderson?" Kurt was shocked, his voice going up even higher. "Are you okay?"

Suddenly, she looked so much younger, like the mask was melting to reveal how she truly felt, the real woman under the shell. So much less intimidating. She cried like Blaine, silently, but so dismally it broke your heart. And obviously, her own was breaking right now.

Letting out a small noise, like an injured animal, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to stop crying. Leaving her hair wet, Kurt hurried around the chair and crouched down in front of her, taking her hands gently in his. "What's wrong?" he asked gently-but inside, he was secretly relieved-this woman was human too. She could feel and she could cry-and she may still love her son enough to reconcile, melt her prejudices.

Like a tidal wave, words came spilling out of this usually statue-like woman's painted lips. "Oh my God…" she sobbed. "I have been so _stupid_! I-I-I've done something I regret so much!" Tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Oh my God, he's my son, and I love him, and…"

Inside, Kurt was jubilant. Blaine wasn't alone! She still loved him! He still had a mother.

"…and I think he _hates_ me! I mean, he has every right to, seeing as what's happened…but I want him back so badly! I miss him so much, I don't think he understands…but everything that's gone on…I still can't quite get my head around…what he is…it was just such a _shock_, and- his father-but that doesn't mean I don't love him! Oh God, I said some _horrific_ things-"

Inside, Kurt felt some-not all-but some of the resentment towards this desperate woman melt as she cried. He could see everything she said was true.

"…and…I think I've lost him!"

"No, no…you haven't," He squeezed her hands comfortingly. "I'm sure you just need to apologise to him, for what happened, and if you ask him to come home-and you mean it- I'm sure he will,"

Curiously, Mrs Anderson looked up. "When did I say he wasn't at home?" she asked suspiciously.

There was no way out of this one. He'd have to come clean.

"Mrs Anderson…" He looked her right in the eyes.

"My name is Kurt Hummel…and I am dating your son,"

**Dun dun dun…**

**Next chapter soon! **

**SPOILER: Blaine's "big question" is asked…**

**Thank you for reading! PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxxx**


	20. Chapter 20

Coughing slightly in the chilly December air, Blaine waited outside the restaurant, checking his watch every thirty seconds. He'd anticipated Kurt's being late-actually, he'd told him to come at seven thirty, but the table wasn't booked until quarter to eight. However, it was already a few minutes past seven forty-five, and he knew the table would be let go if they didn't turn up soon. Cursing his choice of less-than-thermal clothing, he scanned the street before him for any sign of his boyfriend.

But actually, he was really worried about him. Whether he would be here at all. And he _meant_ worried. Something weird was going on.

Getting out his iPhone, he scrolled back through his outbox:

_2:10-Hey, Kurt, having fun? Bxxx_

_3:11- How are you doing? Bxxx_

_3:57-I love you baby, and if it's quite alright I need you baby to warm my lonely night, trust me when I say oh pretty baby…:') Bxxx_

_4:28- How many Klingon does it take to change a light bulb? Bxxx_

_5:05-Two: one to change the light bulb, and the other to stab him in the back and take credit for it :') Bxxx_

_5:30- Feel slightly rejected at the lack of texting back, even after my awesome Star Trek joke :') Bxxx_

_5:55- Baby? Hope you're okay, that nothing's happened Bxxx_

_6:20- Starting to think you've been kidnapped by aliens :') Bxxx_

_6:40- Sorry if I'm bugging you, but slightly concerned now Bxxx_

_7:03- Would really appreciate a text to let me know you're alright Bxxx_

_7:09- Hope nothing's happened Bxxx_

_7:23- Heading to the restaurant now. If you're not there, I'm calling International Rescue :') Bxxx _

The last text had been meant as a joke-but Blaine was indubitably troubled by Kurt not texting all day. Kurt normally texted _constantly_, so this was really out of character. Worry kept biting at him, his own personal Voice of Doom shouting in his head all the dreadful things that could have happened to prevent Kurt from texting…

Maybe he'd just left his phone at home, had no credit, had put it on silent at the bottom of his bag, the battery had died…but one word kept cropping up in the Voice of Doom's unthinkable ideas-_Karofsky_.

Leaning back on the clean brick-wall, Blaine wished Kurt would appear. It wasn't that he was over-protective (okay, a little), but the countertenor not texting back, or contacting in any way was really distressing. Blaine was finding, since Grandma, he tended to worry more over issues. Probably because there wasn't anyone to worry for him any more…

But it was just particularly concerning today. There was a reason for this fancy restaurant booking, and everything else he'd carefully got together over the last few days…In his pocket, he carefully turned over the small box…

If Kurt didn't come, Blaine didn't know what he'd do…

As they turned a corner, Kurt checked his hair in the wing mirror of the expensive Porsche. It still had the leather-seat-new-car smell, which his father always said was the most wonderful smell in the world. He felt a bit odd turning up for a date in the same clothes he'd been wearing when he'd last seen Blaine earlier-but it couldn't be helped. He'd changed out of the pink hair salon shirt and white jeans and back into the tight red tartan trousers, white shirt and tight black waistcoat with the silver pocket watch and chain of that morning. Wishing he'd worn the trilby hat that went so well with them, he quietly adjusted the chain into position. Pausing, he licked his lips-damn, they were getting chapped. He checked his handbag and found a lip balm, which he quickly applied.

"You should use Eve Lom Kiss Mix," suggested Mrs Anderson, as she stopped at the traffic light. "That one is the best,"

If you'd have told Kurt that morning he'd be in a car with Blaine's mother as she gave him beauty advice, he'd have said you were insane.

It had been pretty mad. When he'd first told her who he was, she'd practically gone into a state of shock. Her eyes had flamed, and she looked livid. Her throat seemed to have swelled up with anger and shock so much she couldn't talk. It was quite scary. Kurt thought that hair salon might now have lost a client, but what could he do?

After a few minutes, she'd calmed down enough to speak. First, she interrogated him quite forcefully on how long they'd been together, whether Kurt's parents had known, was Blaine now staying with him, had he mentioned her at all, etc. Eventually, she seemed to run out of questions, and slumped back in her chair, sighing heavily. Kurt kept his politest, sweetest manner going, trying to get on the right side of this woman, though it seemed impossible.

He wasn't quite sure how the next bit went, but twenty minutes later, they were in Starbucks next door having coffee together. Kurt and Mrs Anderson. This was insane.

Mrs Anderson, after a while, turned into quite a pleasant and chatty woman. Once the anger had melted, Kurt even got the impression she was _warming_ to him as they talked for hours about beauty, fashion, shoes, Alexander McQueen, Kate Middleton…at least they had things in common. She still seemed a bit distant, and sat very firmly on the other side of the table, never going near him, but Kurt had been expecting an utter evil witch, so maybe this wasn't so bad.

And, hindmost, she'd offered him a lift to the restaurant to meet Blaine.

If Mr Schue had announced his love for Principle Figgins, life could not have been any crazier.

So now, they were a few streets away from the place, and he was actually almost _comfortable _with her. Although she was making sure her and never accidentally brushed Kurt's, this was progress. This was good.

Just before the final corner, Mrs Anderson parked the car at the side of the road. She seemed to hesitate before pulling the break. It was plain-she couldn't face seeing her son today.

"Is here okay?" she asked him, her voice polite, but a little strained.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs Anderson," Kurt paused. "Will you…talk to him soon?" he asked carefully. "I know he wants you to?"

Letting out a sigh, Blaine's mother shook her head. "I don't know. There's his father…I tell you, Kurt, don't go pulling a stunt like that with my husband!" She laughed a little. Kurt agreed-Mr Anderson was a whole different level.

"Okay…but I know he misses you too…well, thank you so much for the lift, Mrs Anderson,"

"That's no problem, no problem at all…"

Getting out of the car, he picked up his handbag and shut the door behind him. "Goodbye. Hopefully see you soon," he said, almost a question in his voice.

"Yes…goodbye, Kurt," Rolling up the window, Mrs Anderson sped away without another word.

It took Kurt a few seconds to get over the shock-_wow_.

Shaking his head a little, he set off in the direction of the restaurant, humming under his breath. As he turned the corner, he saw his boyfriend stood outside waiting. He felt a stab of guilt for being late-but was inwardly debating whether to tell him what had gone on today. Maybe it was better if he didn't know…well, not tonight. Like Blaine had said, this was their first proper date in ages. They should just try to have a fun evening.

"Kurt!" Blaine spotted him, and waved. Even from the distance, Kurt saw him breath a sigh of relief. Bless, he was such a worrier. It was sweet. He was dressed in a cool grey blazer, with a white t-shirt and tight grey jeans, with his favourite converse trainers. "Didn't you get my texts?" the guitarist asked breathlessly as Kurt approached.

"No…" Rummaging in his bag, Kurt found his phone and switched it on: _12 new messages from: Blainexxx _"Oh!" Kurt squeaked in surprise. "I'm sorry!"

"Never mind," The guitarist's face relaxed into a smile. "You look stunning,"

"So do you," Kurt smiled back, looking deep into those honey-coloured eyes…

Luckily, the table hadn't been let go, so they were lead to a table near the back of the fancy restaurant. It a good table, close to the ostentatious water feature, but not so close they got sprayed, quite close to the stage where a jazz band softly played, and sort of private, but not hidden. The room was packed with romantic couples-this was obviously the place to go with your boyfriend/girlfriend. The table must have been hard to get. Blaine must have been planning this for ages…

The guitarist pulled out Kurt's chair to let him sit down first. "Close your eyes," he murmured softly from behind. Curiously, the countertenor did so-and a few seconds later, he heard something light and airy fall onto the table in front of him. When he opened his eyes-a perfect, deep red rose, made carefully from tissue paper. It was attached to a thin green rod, which bent slightly, so it lay gracefully on the wood, the paper having been patiently folded into shape.

"Oh my gosh…" Kurt gently touched it. "Did you make this? It's gorgeous!"

"Glad you like it," Blaine smiled modestly-but he was obviously delighted.

"Thank you, you're so sweet!" He gave him a hug, the back of the chair getting in the way, but he didn't care. "But what's the occasion?"

"…After everything that's happened…I guess I just wanted to say thank you," Blaine dropped a light kiss on his hair. "I love you,"

"I love _you_," It was official-Kurt had the best boyfriend ever.

After a few more moments, Blaine reluctantly broke the hug and went to his seat opposite, with a bow that made Kurt giggle. As he went, Kurt noticed him check something was still in his pocket-his phone probably…He slid into the wooden chair, and smiled Kurt's favourite smile, causing the countertenor to melt.

"So…" Blaine reached over and took his hand across the table. "How is my star?"

Conversation was light and cheerful-it was the most relaxed and light-hearted Kurt had seen his boyfriend since his grandmother's death. They talked of everything an nothing…but sometimes, there were periods of pure, comfortable silence. Sometimes, just being together was enough.

Softly, Kurt fingered the head of the rose, feeling the thin paper rustle beneath his slim fingers. He'd keep this forever. It was one of the sweetest things he'd ever been given. He touched the drawing the little girl Lily had given him earlier in his pocket, and felt pleasantly warm.

"Wow, this is really good," Blaine commented after the food had arrived. He hadn't let Kurt see the menu so he wouldn't see the prices (God, Kurt hated him being such a gentleman sometimes) but judging by the fancy way the plate was set out, and the long foreign-sounding names of the dishes, it would be costing a fortune. The countertenor felt bad that Blaine nearly always won the "No, _I'll_ pay," arguments and was fully intending to pay for this evening. He wondered about discretely slipping some money into Blaine's pocket.

Around an hour later, as they shared an ice cream sundae, Kurt noticed his boyfriend slightly tense up. He had gone rather rigid, not talking so much and he suddenly looked a little-nervous?

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, concerned.

Looking up at him, Blaine opened his mouth to say something-then closed it again. "Urm…"

"Yes?" Kurt fed him a spoonful of whipped cream and marshmallow. The guitarist took his time chewing it, then looked back up at him.

"Know what, I'm just going to do it," Taking a deep breath, Blaine stood up and walked quickly over beside Kurt. Never breaking eye contact, he put a hand in his pocket-and brought out a _small royal blue box._

Instantly, Kurt's heart went into overdrive, his throat swelling shut and his hand began to shake slightly. _Oh God. This was _not _happening._

Panic began to set in, as Blaine _got down on one knee_ and held up _that_ box. His lungs felt like they'd collapsed, his brain seemed to have stopped working. No. Oh God no. This could not be happening. It was a dream, or something-there was no way Blaine in this ludicrously posh and romantic restaurant with something that looked very much like a ring box was actually-

It was everything Kurt wanted.

Heart racing the moon, so loud he swore he could hear it, Kurt's eyes widened, already beginning to tear up. This was _perfect_.

Blaine took his quivering, pale left hand in both of his. "Kurt Hummel…will you…"

He couldn't breathe. _He could not breathe. _

"…move in with me?"

The violins in Kurt's mind abruptly stopped, like a plug being pulled. "_What_?"

"Will you move in with me?" Opening the box-he revealed a newly-cut _key_.

Oh. This was…Kurt wanted to say disappointing, but-that wasn't the right word.

Blaine was waiting anxiously for the answer, his eyes wide and nervous-but hopeful.

"Er…" Kurt honestly did not know what to say. And that did not happen often.

The guitarist saw his hesitance, and his eyes lost the hopefulness, which was replaced with embarrassment and apology.. "Look, if you think we're too young, or it's too soon, I totally understand…we can just pretend this never happened, or whatever…Oh God, I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry," Hastily, he bean to stand up.

"No!" Kurt grabbed his hands. "No! I mean-it's just…well…we kind of already have?"

"I mean…just us," Some of the hope was returning. "_Not_ sharing a room with Finn…I just thought…my grandmother's apartment…she left everything to me, and…I've been thinking about it a lot, and it would be so perfect…I've got everything worked out: Grandma actually had more money than we thought, she must have been saving it forever, and there's no mortgage anymore, she paid it off years ago, and I've worked it out; I can take some extra shifts at work and we'll manage easily, with the money I have saved-my mom actually is still putting money into my account every week, for some reason…but that means money is not an issue-and anyway, it's only for a year, then we'll go to New York…I mean…if you want to move in with me, you wouldn't have to worry about a thing…"

Kurt's head was spinning.

About a million and one reasons why this couldn't possibly work, despite the financial security, were pouring into his mind.

But…

"…So what do you say? I mean, I totally understand if-"

Leaning forward, Kurt cut him off by kissing him squarely on the lips.

"Woah…" said Blaine when they finally broke apart. He had the biggest, happiest, most relieved smile ever. "So…can I take that as a yes?"

"Yes!" Kurt was half-laughing as he hugged him tightly, knelt on the floor.

"Oh my God…" Blaine sounded purely delighted. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Eventually, they got up and sat back up at the table. Blaine took his hand and kissed it. "You just made me the happiest guy in the world,"

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt breathed. Excitement was building up inside him, and he let out a small squeal of delight. "Likewise!"

"You seemed sort of…disappointed when I asked…?" Blaine enquired curiously.

"Oh! Oh-I just-I thought-" Kurt bit his lip.

Slowly, Blaine realised how this all must have looked to Kurt. He glanced at the small box, the surrounding-and a laugh bubbled out of him. "Hey-did you think-?"

"No, I most certainly did not," Kurt insisted, trying to retain dignity-as he felt himself blush furiously.

"Oh my gosh, you did!" Blaine laughed, shaking his head.

"This goes no further," The countertenor looked down, cheeks still flushing.

"I officially have the most adorable boyfriend on the planet!" Blaine kissed his hand again. "Oh my gosh…this is so perfect…"

"I know," Kurt gushed.

"Apart from one thing…"

Looking up, Kurt was confused. Then-he understood. Once again, awful panic set in.

"Oh my Gaga! I have to tell my dad!"

**This is all so wonderful! But what about Mr Burt Hummel…**

**Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! :'D And please review! **

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	21. Chapter 21

"No,"

"Dad, you haven't even heard what I've got to say yet,"

"Kurt, I give you enough money as it is, and frankly, you don't help me out here enough to earn it," said Burt dismissively as he fixed on a new tyre to an old BMW.

Kurt was literally quaking in his designer boots.

"I'm not asking you for money, Dad,"

"What do you want, Kurt?" came Finn's voice from the other side of the workshop.

"Look, can I talk to you _without_ Finn here?" Kurt asked desperately.

"I'm working. Ask me after six,"

Sighing a little, Kurt left the shop, and started the journey up the road back to the house. It wasn't far-but Kurt dragged his feet. He'd spent all day at school trying to work up the nerve to tell his father what he planned to do. And he wasn't sure it would last another two hours.

The idea of he and Blaine moving in together was…Kurt had been in a bit of a dream ever since he "proposed" the idea. This was the start; the start of their lives together-well, Kurt hoped-and if he was correct, Blaine hoped too. He had plans to redecorate the whole place on a budget-Kurt had a knack of making money go a long way. He'd sketched designs of every single room, even specific items of furniture he thought would be amazing. The whole double biology lesson today had been spent daydreaming about it; Mercedes had actually had to shake him to wake him up at the end. They hadn't told anyone yet-but it was kind of fun, it being secret.

But he'd have to tell his father. And sooner rather than later.

Blaine opened the front door before Kurt had even knocked. "How did he take it?" he asked anxiously.

"He didn't. He said talk to him later,"

The guitarist breathed a sigh of what might have been relief or desperation. "Oh well. I still say we should tell him together,"

"Honey, he would shoot you on the spot,"

"True," Blaine nodded. "But I would die happy," He pulled Kurt in and kissed him. "I still can't believe we're doing this!"

"Me neither," Kurt smiled excitedly. "However, if my father isn't on board, I wouldn't put it past him to put bars on my window-don't you mention the _Chamber of Secrets_!" he said quickly, putting a hand over Blaine's mouth to stop the coming Harry Potter reference.

"Well, I'd just have to bewitch a Ford Anglia to fly and come rescue you,"

"I live in the basement!" Kurt laughed.

"The cupboard under the st-"

"NO!"

Laughing, Blaine took his boyfriend's hand and dragged him into the living room, where his beloved guitar sat readily propped up against the arm of the couch. He picked it up and began checking the tuning. Sitting down beside him, Kurt watched his hand form the shapes of the chords on the fret board as he strummed experimentally, humming the different notes as he ensured it was perfect.

"I think you'll know this one," Blaine smiled, as he began to play, picking out the intro. With a glimmer of recognition, Kurt beamed at his boyfriend. He knew the tune immediately, but had never imagined it on acoustic guitar. It sounded lovely though. A few bars in, and Kurt began to sing:

"_Every night in my dreams_

_I see you, I feel you_

_That is how I know you go on…"_

The countertenor felt his heart begin to race as he sang this beautiful song.

"_Far across the distance_

_And spaces between us_

_You have come to show you go on…"_

Keeping the picking steady and soft, Blaine swayed gently, absorbed in the music and Kurt's angelic voice.

"_Near, far, wherever you are_

_I believe that the heart does go on_

_Once more you open the door_

_And you're here in my heart_

_And my heart will go on and on…"_

As the bubble of joy in his chest grew, Kurt found his head lifting, to look at Blaine. As he fell into the second verse, he was singing directly to him.

"_Love can touch us one time_

_And last for a lifetime_

_And never let go till we're gone_

_Love was when I loved you_

_One true time I hold to_

_In my life we'll always go on_

_Near, far, wherever you are_

_I believe that the heart does go on_

_Once more you open the door_

_And you're here in my heart_

_And my heart will go on and on…"_

Looking up from his guitar, Blaine smiled at the countertenor-then suddenly changed the whole style of his playing for the dramatic, intense key-change. Kurt's whole body shivered slightly, his heart leaping as he put his heart and soul into the final chorus.

"_You're here, there's nothing I fear_

_And I know that my heart will go on_

_We'll stay forever this way_

_You are safe in my heart_

_And my heart will go on and on…."_

Singing out the long, final note, Kurt could have been flying. The wonderful feeling he found in singing was incomparable. He and Blaine's eyes met, and they shared a glowing smile. Then-

Kurt promptly burst into tears.

"What?" Blaine swept his guitar aside at the speed of light, and enfolded him protectively in his arms, in total concerned-mode. "What's wrong, Kurt?"

"It's-it's just-" the countertenor sobbed, tears pouring down his porcelain cheeks. "Jack and Rose-"

It took Blaine a minute-and then he understood. After a disbelieving second-he burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" Kurt whimpered. "They-they were so in love-and then-and then he _died_,"

"Kurt, baby," Blaine cachinnated, giving him a kiss on his hair. "it's only a movie. Leonardo DiCaprio is still very much alive,"

"That's not the point! Poor Rose was heartbroken, and she never-let go!" Kurt lamented.

"Babe, she dropped him right into the water,"

"He _died_!" Kurt wailed, sobbing hard into Blaine's shoulder.

It took the guitarist a full half hour to console him.

**Sorry it's so short, but I haven't posted in days and felt bad…:')**

**Hope you enjoyed anyway, and more as soon as I can! **

**SPOILER: A very awkward evening at the Hummel-Hudson's…**

**Thank you for reading, and please review! How do you guys want Burt to take it? I'd love to have your influence on this! Please review with your thoughts!**

**Hope you're all well, you awesome people :') PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxx**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey everyone! :') **

**Oh dear, I wrote this after reading Romeo and Juliet again-Burt comes over a little bit Capulet! :P**

**Enjoy! xxx**

Nervous wasn't really the right way to describe how Blaine was feeling. "Being nervous" he associated with a performance in front of a competition audience, or an exam-or asking Kurt out. Now, he felt more like he did going home to face his parents after he "told" them about Kurt. This surpassed nervous. When he'd decided to take this leap-he hadn't properly considered his boyfriend's protective father until after. Genuinely, apart from the obvious "Where's my gun?", Blaine had no idea how he'd react.

He and Kurt were doing a pretty good job of acting normal as they, Carole, Finn, and, most importantly tonight, Burt, sat down eating dinner, the rain pelting down outside. After much discussion-they'd concluded it was better just to tell everyone together. Get it over with.

As they listened to Burt's story of what had gone on today at work, Kurt reached under the table and took is hand tightly. Looking at him, the guitarist could see straight away the countertenor was feeling exactly the same way as he was. Blaine imagined Tonks might have felt similar as she told her parents their only daughter was marrying a werewolf. Granted, he wasn't a werewolf-but he was Kurt's boyfriend, and to Burt-that was just as dangerous.

He can't think Blaine was that bad-he knew he wouldn't be within fifty miles of Kurt if he did. But if Blaine was fully honest-he couldn't see Burt being cool with this. Not in a million years.

But it was so worth the trying.

"So turns out I had the spanner in my back pocket all along!" Burt smiled, and everyone laughed a little as the story finished. Blaine bit his lip, desperate to get this over with-but unsure how to start. Last time he'd been in a situation remotely like this, he'd accidentally blurted out that he was gay/had a boyfriend to the whole extended family.

"Honestly, sometimes I think I'd loose my head if Finn wasn't around the shop!" Burt clapped his step-son on the shoulder. Kurt and Carole simultaneously almost choked on their drinks.

"_Finn_?" his mother blurted out in disbelief.

"Glad you have so much faith in me," Finn grumbled-but he looked thrilled at Burt's compliment.

"So you can keep a workshop in order-but you can't tidy your side of the room?" Kurt quipped-earning a kick under the table from his step-brother. "Owch!" he squeaked.

"Don't kick your brother, Finn," Carole said warningly. Finn looked appalled.

"But-He-?" Seeing this was a loosing battle, he brutally attacked his meat loaf, muttering darkly under his breath. Kurt looked a little smug-the perks of being baby-faced worked wonders in these situations.

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about earlier, buddy?" Burt asked his son-and the countertenor suddenly looked terrified. He looked pleadingly at Blaine-who involuntarily looked down.

"Well?" Burt's eyebrows had knitted together slightly as he sensed something was up.

Best get it over with. Now Burt had sussed something was going on, he'd get it out of them anyway.

Slowly, like a weight was resisting against him, Kurt rose to his feet. Here, Blaine felt a bit of a pang-why was he always so theatrical about everything? But nothing could be done now. After a moment's silence, as everyone stared anxiously at him, Kurt's lips parted. Blaine held his breath without meaning to.

"Dad," His voice was barely audible as he addressed everyone, but his father prominently. "Blaine and I-" He cut off again, seeming hardly able to control his breathing.

"Blaine and you what?" Burt was now highly suspicious, looking accusingly at Blaine.

"Blaine and I…have made the decision to move into the apartment together," It came out in a mad rush: _moveintotheapartmenttogether. _

There was silence for a long, agonising moment.

Finn's mouth had actually dropped open, his eyes popping comically. Carole looked first shocked, then confused. Blaine could see about a million reasons against the idea beginning to form in her mind. And Burt-

"What?"

Mr Hummel's voice was dangerously soft, breaking the silence like a falling boulder. His expression was blank.

"Blaine and I-" Kurt repeated, trying to keep his voice confident-but his eyes were like a deer in the headlamps. "are going to move in together. Dad,"

You could hear the rain beating on the window, like a thousand sewing machines. The tension in the atmosphere in the Hummel-Hudson dining room, which had caved in suddenly like an avalanche, now felt centuries old. Kurt maintained his father's eye-contact, never breaking. Burt looked from he to Blaine, his expression impossible to read. Then-angry.

"You are doing no such thing!" His voice raised, but Kurt stood firm.

"Dad-"

"You are _not_ moving out, do you hear me?" His face was turning slightly red.

"Dad-" Kurt would not budge. He did not raise his voice, but kept the calm tone. However, Burt was not done.

"Why do you want to suddenly move out, anyway? Was this your idea?" He suddenly turned to Blaine, who had a bit of an inward panic before finding his voice, keeping it level.

"Yes-"

Burt cut him off. "You aren't even out of high school!"

"Why does that matter-" Kurt began.

"Of course it matters-!"

"You and Mom were in senior year when you moved in together," Kurt said quietly.

There was another deafening silence.

"That was different," Burt's voice had gone back to dangerously low. "Her parents were moving out of state, and she didn't want to transfer-"

"Blaine's parents kicked him out!"

"And your parent is saying you're not going anywhere!"

"Burt," Carole's calming voice came in, as she put a hand on her husband's shoulder. "You need to cool off. Your heart,"

"How am I supposed to cool off when my son is suddenly wanting to leave home and move into an apartment the other side of town ?"

"Burt," Carole's voice had the same restraining tone. She looked from Kurt to Blaine, and bit her lip. Blaine could see by her expression her hands were tied. But to whom? "Honey, you can't get worked up over this. It could be dangerous for you. Finn, honey, could you leave the room for a minute, please?"

"I am not a child!" the quarterback protested.

"Please leave the room, Finn," Carole's word was final in this house. Begrudgingly, Finn shuffled into the living room opposite and closed the door-but Blaine knew he would be listening to every word.

"Now," Carole looked back at the nervous Kurt and Blaine. The countertenor had sat back down, his hands twisted together in his lap. "Let's talk about this properly,"

"Kurt is not moving out," Burt repeated, taking to Carole, but looking daggers at Blaine. This made the guitarist even more uncomfortable, but he stuck it out.

"Dad, please let me speak," Kurt looked beseechingly at his father, his blue-green eyes wide.

"You don't know what you're _talking_ about. You're too damn stubborn-as soon as the slightest idea is put in your head, you loose all reason,"

"_Dad_?" Kurt looked shocked at his father's outburst.

"And don't look at me with those wounded eyes; they might work on your boyfriend, but not on me!"

"Burt," Carole tried. "You're being a bit unfair-no, let me finish,"

Blaine had to admire Carole-she _ran_ this household full of guys.

"I don't see…" She frowned-then gave up. "Look, I don't see why the boys shouldn't do this. On certain conditions-"

"_What_?" Burt looked scandalised. A glimmer of hope rose in Blaine's tight chest.

"On certain conditions," Carole continued over him. "And certain restrictions. They're mature enough, they're sensible. There's really no reason why, if rules were made, this couldn't work out…It could be the making of them, before they go off to New York alone, they'd get a sense of what it's like…"

"This is insane," Burt was still adamant.

"Look, why don't we talk to Blaine about this?" Carole looked at the guitarist, who sat up a little straighter, confidence given by one of Kurt's parents on board. But it was obvious what _motives_ Burt thought Blaine had for wanting to do this.

"Okay, then. This should be good," Burt turned to him, arms folded.

Now he was really on the spot. He felt Burt's eyes cutting into him as he tried to find words. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Kurt. His pale face was nervous and anxious-but in his eyes-there was a clinging hope. Blaine knew his own would be mirrored. Looking at his boyfriend, Blaine thought, as he did every day, Kurt was so beautiful…

He could do this.

"Mr Hummel," he began, for this was how he always addressed Kurt's father. Blaine met his steel glare. "I know you just want to protect your son, and you've every right as a father to do so. In your position, I'm sure I would be the same. But-the thing is-I _am_ the same. I know you're worried about Kurt being safe-and I assure you that is and always will be my top priority. It would destroy me-as it would you-to see Kurt hurt. And that is why I promise you that as long as your son is with me, he will always be loved and treasured. As long as he's with me, he will never be hurt in any way, and I will do everything in my power and beyond to make him as happy as he deserves to be. Because…I love your son. I love him more than I could possibly put into words. He's…my whole world…and I promise you that I will always take care of him, financially and supportively. As long as he's with me,"

Burt looked lost for words.

There was another silence, but this time, it was different. Blaine looked at his boyfriend-and there were tears in his blue-green eyes. He was looking adoringly at him, the hint of a smile around his lips. In that moment, Blaine knew "as long as he's with me" would last forever.

"Guys," Carole said, her hand still on Burt's shoulder. "Could you leave the room, so I can talk to Burt in private?"

Getting up, Kurt and Blaine began to leave. The guitarist felt his boyfriend's hand close around his. There was a mutual feeling of hope.

Just before they closed the door, Blaine caught these words, spoken low:

"He really meant all that…" Burt was saying, sounding mildly impressed.

"Kurt has to spread his wings sometime, you know,"

"I know…" Burt sounded strange. "Well…Blaine's a good guy…a great guy…"

"And he will take the greatest care of Kurt. He loves him,"

"Hmm…" he murmured in agreement. As he sighed heavily again, the last words Blaine heard him say, the wonderful words:

"Separate rooms,"

**Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and please review! :') Every review makes my day :')**

**Oh, the cheesiness! :')**

**SPOILER: Little Lily makes a return (specially for you, you know who you are! :') ) and we hear from someone who's been absent from the story for a while…**

**More soon! Thank you so much! PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxxx**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey everyone :') **

**Credit due to le warblers for the next two chapters or so :')**

**Sorry the chapters are short! I'm so busy! :') But I figure if I can post one short chapter a day and a longer one wherever I can, it's better than trying to do long ones all the time and rarely updating :P **

**I'll try and make the next one longer for you guys :')**

**Thank you as always for all your reviews, I really appreciate the feedback :') Please continue to do so! :') **

Kurt and Blaine strolled down the centre of the mall, laughing together at something. Defiantly, Kurt's arm was tucked firmly into Blaine's. The looks they were given, the stares, barely scratched them. Nothing could touch them. Why shouldn't two people in love walk hand in hand? Courage.

"Seriously, I swear there is nothing funnier than Puck's impression of Stephen Fry!" Kurt gigged, waving cheerfully at a man in a business suit giving them evils.

"You ought to see Wes's impression of Kermit the Frog," Blaine grinned-then looked a little sad. "I miss those guys…"

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Kurt bit his lip. The guitarist must have seen, because his smile quickly returned. "Not even a millionth as much as I would have missed you,"

Reassured, Kurt rested his head on his shoulder (awkward due to the height difference) and they continued through the mall. There wasn't really a plan; Blaine guessed they'd just wanted to get out of the house. Well, they be in a new house soon…

Blaine still couldn't believe Burt had _agreed. _Well, it had taken him another two days to fully come round, and there were loads of conditions. Kurt was to come home for the weekend every week, spending Friday and Saturday night at home, and of course "separate rooms". Blaine didn't mind that-it seemed pretty reasonable to be able to spend every moment he could with Kurt.

And so, Burt had grudgingly consented for them to move in to the flat a week tomorrow. Blaine literally couldn't wait-and you can imagine how excited Kurt was. His basement bedroom was now a maze of interior design magazines, and it was amazing how he could find cheap copies of thing that looked so genuinely real. Although he had had to be reined in a bit.

Finn was delighted-he got his own room five nights a week. Carole seemed happy enough, and was always ready to offer advice and support. She was more or less the reason all this was going ahead, so Blaine could never thank her enough. If he was honest, he still didn't think Burt was one hundred per cent okay with this. But he was probably never going to be okay with Kurt semi-leaving home at any time, and now there was just head-shaking and repeated warnings-but this morning, he'd offered to help as much as he could with everything.

Everyone was really supportive-they hadn't told the guys at Glee club yet, but he hoped they'd be happy for them.

"Kurt!"

A small, mousy, high-pitched voice suddenly came from behind them-and seconds later a small, blond, curly-haired little girl had run headlong into Kurt's legs, hugging them tight. The countertenor gave a small squeak of shock.

"Wow!" The speed of the youngster was incredible, and the force as she collided with the back of Kurt's legs nearly knocked him over. Grabbing Kurt's elbow to steady him, Blaine looked at the girl-she was very pretty, with big, appealing eyes and there was a teddy-bear dressed in a Princess Aurora outfit clutched under her small arm.

"Hi!" She looked up at the countertenor expectantly. For a moment, Kurt looked utterly confused-then it seemed to click.

"Oh! Hey, sweetie," He smiled kindly down at her.

"Who's your friend, Kurt?" Blaine asked, making a funny face at the little girl, who giggled.

"I'm Lily!" she announced, before Kurt could. "And I'm three and a half years old," Her sugar-mouse voice still had the slight lisp of childhood-she was very cute. Blaine loved kids-though her blonde curls reminded him with a pang of his small cousin Anna…

"Hi, Lily," Blaine bent down to eye-level with her. "How are you?" He put out a hand to shake formally, which made her giggle again. "Lily's such a pretty name…did you know it's the same as Lily-"

"_Potter_," Kurt chimed in with as Blaine said it, shaking his head fondly.

"Kurt's my friend," Lily told Blaine proudly.

"We met once," the countertenor dropped in his boyfriend's ear. Blaine laughed a little.

"Lily?" An attractive blonde woman who had to be her mother appeared behind, holding many shopping bags with designer logos. She looked from Blaine to Kurt-then smiled. "Oh, it's you! From the hair salon,"

"Hair salon?" Blaine began to ask curiously-but Kurt subtly stamped on his foot.

"Yes," he smiled politely, Lily still clinging onto him.

"Lily hasn't stopped talking about you _all_ week," The woman smiled apologetically at the surprised countertenor. "It's Kurt this and Kurt that…"

"Oh!" Kurt looked touched. "Awwh,"

"Kurt can't draw," Lily informed Blaine, who grinned, earning evils from his boyfriend.

"I'm Connie Evans," Her mother put out a hand, which Kurt shook politely. But Blaine was delighted, his face lighting up.

"So your name is _Lily Evans_!" He beamed at Lily. "You lucky girl!"

"Please pardon Blaine's obsession with Harry Potter," Kurt smiled long-suffering-ly at Connie, who nodded understandingly. "This is Blaine-my boyfriend,"

Instantly, Connie looked all the more interested in him-the _I-want-a-gay-best-friend _thing they were so used to surfacing. "Oh! That's great!"

"It is…" Kurt looked down a little, smiling shyly. "So how are you?"

Blaine listened to their conversation as he chatted to Lily cheerfully, hearing all about how Kurt couldn't draw.

"Well, actually, I'm having a bit of a crisis!" Mrs Evans admitted. "My babysitter just called and cancelled for tomorrow night! I mean, they'll be the cleaner in the house-but her big sister is doing an important school assignment and someone really needs to be watching Lily all the time to make sure she doesn't do something she shouldn't…so having a bit of a panic!" She mimed freaking out, laughing a little.

"Can't Kurt baby-sit?" Lily piped up.

Kurt looked surprised to be volunteered. Mrs Evans was taken aback.

"_Please_?" the little girl asked, hugging Kurt's legs.

Mrs Evans looked unsure, carefully eyeing Kurt up and down.

"If it would help you out, I'm happy to step in?" Kurt said, smiling politely.

"Well…the cleaner will be there too…okay, why not?" Connie Evans smiled, deeming Kurt safe.

"Yay!" Lily whooped happily. "And Blaine too?" she asked, putting her warm little hand on the guitarist's shoulder.

Connie looked at Blaine, who was still knelt on the floor. After a moment, she nodded. "Yeah, okay, why not? Look, here's our address and my mobile number-come over around half five tomorrow?"

Blaine took the little sheet of note paper she'd given him, and thought it a little odd, even irresponsible how she was happy to let two teenage boys she barely knew look after her daughters, but didn't press the matter. He supposed they didn't really give the impression of being dangerous, and it was money after all. It might even be fun.

"Yeah, that sounds great," Kurt smiled trustworthily.

"I can teach you how to draw!" Lily beamed, looking up at Kurt as if he were royalty.

Ten minutes later, they'd chatted a little more with Connie Evans, finally prized her daughter off of Kurt and started towards Starbucks.

"Awwwhh, Kurt's got a _friend_!" teased Blaine. "So how did you guys meet?"

"The hair salon on the high street. The expensive one,"

"Oh," Blaine's stomach gave an unpleasant lunge. "That's where my mom goes…"

"I know," chirped Kurt.

"Sorry, but how do you know?" The guitarist was a little confused-Kurt never met his mother…

The countertenor's cheeks had suddenly started to blush. He looked as if he'd realised he'd said something wrong. There was a sheepish look in his eyes. Blaine knew immediately-something was up.

"Is there something you haven't told me?"

Guiltily, Kurt bit his lip.

**Thank you for reading! And please review! :') Every review makes my day brighter :') Very open to any suggestions now-Kurt and Blaine moving in ideas?**

**More soon!**

**SPOILER: Baby-sitting and a phone call…**

**Thank you! Hope you're all enjoying! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxx**


	24. Chapter 24

Kurt stole a glance at Blaine, who was sat in the passenger seat beside him, looking straight ahead at the road, with his arms crossed. His eyes were set looking determinedly not at the countertenor. His lips were tightly closed, totally silent, his arms locked on his lap. He had, despite Kurt's efforts, not spoken to him since yesterday.

The countertenor felt _awful_ for not telling Blaine he'd talked to his mother. He'd told him the whole story yesterday, thinking Blaine would be cool with it. But he was anything but. He was furious that Kurt hadn't told him, and moreover deeply hurt.

The argument had lead to a fierce shouting match, outside the mall. It couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, but it felt like forever. Blaine was torn up and one of the maddest Kurt had ever seen him.

"_Why keep something like that from me, Kurt? I thought our relationship was based on trust!" _

Long story short, when the quarrel had fizzled out without a clear winner, they'd driven home in this same stony silence. As soon as they got in, Blaine disappeared to the basement without a word, making it clear he wanted to be alone. Kurt was crushed, quietly crying in the bathroom all evening long. He noticed his father's mood seemed to improve considerably when it became obvious they'd had a fight, optimistically thinking the "moving out" might be off. Well, Kurt wasn't one hundred per cent sure it wasn't.

When he'd nervously crept down to the basement at around eleven after his skin routine to go to bed, he'd found Blaine still full-clothed, curled up on the chair. His iPod was plugged in, and judging by the faintly audible sound of Katy Perry, it was on full blast. Kurt had seen his eyes flicker up when he entered, but now he was acting as if he hadn't come in. The countertenor felt a sharp pang-but played along, going straight into the ensuite to change into his pyjamas without a word. When he came back in, Blaine was gone, and the door leading upstairs to the living room was open.

Hours later, when Kurt had finally briefly got to sleep, he was started awake by something. Out of his new habit, he expected to feel Blaine's gentle breath on is cheek-but there was nothing there. The bed suddenly felt so empty without him, so cold. He looked over to the other bed, where Finn snored, his expression vacant and comic, with a half-empty bowl of popcorn cuddled like a teddy bear to his chest. Sitting up a little, he'd looked at the camp bed, which his father had set up when Blaine came. Officially, that was where Blaine had been sleeping since he'd been staying, but that of course had not been the case. It had been easy to bribe Finn not to tell, on the compromise that they wouldn't "do anything". The camp bed had been unused-but now Blaine was curled up in it, one tanned arm hanging down on the floor. He was asleep, but his expression was not quite peaceful. Kurt's eyes had filled with tears once again as he watched his boyfriend sleep, wishing he could turn back time and come clean right away. Eventually, he'd softly cried himself to sleep.

By the next morning, it was officially the longest time they'd ever gone since they'd been together without speaking. Blaine had been up ridiculously early and gone out, not leaving a note or anything. The countertenor hadn't got out of bed until gone eleven, then didn't even get dressed, sprawled on the couch in his dressing gown watching _The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins _and _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang _one after the other, his comfort musicals. He must have looked rough, because Finn brought him some Ben and Jerry's ice cream half way through "Stay Awake". It was so sweet of him, but Kurt couldn't touch it.

At around quarter to five, during the title song where Caractacus Potts and Jeremy and Jemima are in the car for the first time, Kurt reluctantly switched off the movie to go get ready. He still had to babysit little Lily and her sister, though he'd never felt less like it. He dressed and did his hair half-heartedly-whilst looking up every two seconds to see if Blaine had come back. But nothing.

At quarter past five, Kurt sighed, resigned to his fate to baby-sit alone. Lacing his back designer boots, he picked up his bag and began to leave-only to bump into Blaine in the front door.

So now, still without exchanging one word, they were driving to one of the posher areas of town, with the tension between them thick as anything. Kurt was desperate for him to speak to him-but he didn't know where to start. He'd apologised a thousand times and more yesterday, but none seemed to even chip at the huge rock of Blaine's hurt and betrayal. But Blaine certainly wasn't going to speak to him.

Turning down a street and stopping at some traffic lights, Kurt could stand the silence no longer. He turned to look at his statue-like boyfriend. "Blaine?" he tried, his voice quiet and pleading.

The guitarist made no sound-but Kurt saw him visibly tense up a little, though he continued staring straight ahead.

"Blaine? Blaine, please talk to me?"

Still no words. He seemed to be blocking out Kurt's voice.

"Blaine?"

He might as well have been talking to a mannequin.

"Blaine, please,"

Nothing.

"Blaine?"

"Will you quit repeating my name like that-?" Blaine snapped-then sighed as he realised he'd spoken to him.

"Look, now we're speaking, can we talk about this?" Kurt pleaded quickly.

Still not looking at him, Blaine paused-then nodded metallically.

"Blaine, I can't tell you how much I apologise for not telling you I talked to your mother. It was really wrong of me, and stupid. I understand you're mad at me, and you have every right to be-I'd be mad at me too. Hell, I _am_ mad at me. I feel like crap about it, about how you won't trust me any more and I don't expect you to forgive me at all," He paused. "I should have told you right away, but you'd only just picked yourself up after your grandmother, and it felt like knocking you down again. But Blaine-she still loves you! She does, she just can't face you because she's so ashamed of what she did…but Blaine, the important thing is that she still loves you! She wants you to come home! It's just…your dad," he put frankly. "I am so sorry, I should have told you. I would totally understand if-" Kurt's voice cut off-but he forced it through. "If you didn't want to…be with me anymore…"

Bracing himself for the answer, Kurt held his breath.

"Oh my God, Kurt, I am not breaking up with you!"

Despite the tone of voice, the countertenor almost died with relief.

"You can't keep stuff like that from me!" Blaine still sounded annoyed. "Look, Kurt, I know you meant well by it…"

"I'm so sorry, Blaine. I should never have kept it secret from you,"

Blaine was silent for a few seconds. Then-he sighed, finally turning to look at him. "What secret?"

You could almost feel the ice melting between them as Kurt flung his arms around him tightly, the seatbelts getting in the way.

"Owch! You'll break my neck!"

"Let's never fight again, I can't bear it!" Kurt was so happy, he didn't care about the people in the car next to them beginning to stare.

"Well, I suppose I know now…" Blaine was thinking hard. "I'll have to talk to her…but not today," He dropped a kiss on Kurt's hair, finally smiling. "I can't stay mad at you,"

Letting go of him and snapping up like a measuring tape, Kurt held out his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, seeing as we love Harry Potter so much, we're making an Unbreakable Vow,"

Blaine looked half worried, half amused. "That sounds serious,"

"You'll like it. Take my wrist," the countertenor commanded. Rolling his eyes, but still smiling, Blaine took it, so they looked like Snape and Narcissia Malfoy.

"I, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Kurt said solemnly. "will never to keep secrets from you, Blaine Edward Michael Anderson, again,"

"Right," Blaine snickered-but he maintained the serious eye-contact.

"And I promise to make you chocolate chip cookies tomorrow,"

"Sounds great,"

Giggling a little, they let go-but Kurt pulled Blaine into another hug. "I love you,"

"_I love you baby, and if it's quite alright I need you baby, to warm my lonely nights, oh pretty baby,_" Blaine sang, laughing. "Uh, baby?"

"What?" Kurt's voice was muffled, buried in the fabric of Blaine's shirt.

"The light's green,"

Five minutes later, they were pulling up outside the designated address. It was a large house, made of white bricks, with three expensive-looking cars in the drive way. There was a little pink kid's bike with four wheels and pink streamers coming out of the handles discarded in the middle of the lawn.

"Awwhh, I used to have a bike like that!" Kurt beamed.

"I bet you did!"

The two teens had a bit of a shoving match as they crunched up the long driveway. Kurt was so glad they were back to normal. He felt like a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders. Eventually, they reached the front door, which had a colourful glass window, and rang the doorbell, before realising it was broken and knocking.

"Hello!" Connie Evans appeared at the door barely a second later. She was all dressed up, obviously waiting to go out. In the hall behind her was a very blonde man lacing smart back shoes, who was obviously her husband.

"Hi," Kurt smiled politely. "How are you?"

"I'm great thank you!" She seemed pretty excited, showing them both in. "Okay, phone numbers are pinned to the fridge-but you'll be fine, won't you? The girls have both had food, and Lily should be in bed by…well, she can stay up 'til seven, go on then…Make sure Monica's light is out by ten, but other than that, I don't think you'll see her. She works so hard, bless her…" She ran through these instructions like she knew them by heart, running around collecting everything together. "Anyway, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen, and just make sure Lily doesn't do anything she shouldn't-you know the sort, she's very curious-"

"Kurt!" A small figure with flying blonde hair had dashed into the hallway, dressed in a Tinkerbell fairy outfit. She ran straight to the countertenor at full pelt and hugged him hard.

"Hey, sweetie!"

But quickly she moved onto Blaine. "Eric!"

"Huh?"

"She thinks you look like Prince Eric," her mother explained with an apologetic smile. "From _The Little Mermaid_?"

"Oh! Okay," Blaine shrugged, as Kurt silently killed himself laughing. "Not the worst thing to look like!"

"Well, we'd best be going," Connie Evans took her husband's arm, as he nodded at Kurt and Blaine. "Monica! We're going!" she shouted up the stairs.

"'Kay!" came a voice.

"I get one syllable from my twelve-year-old daughter," Connie shook her head, kissing Lily goodbye. "Okay, phone if there's a problem! Bye!"

And just like that she was gone, the car starting up almost right away.

"Come on!" Grabbing their hands and pulling them along behind her, Lily lead them into the living room, where some kid's cartoon was showing on the huge TV, and the white leather sofa was covered with crayons. It was a big room, with an expensive looking light fitting on the ceiling and modern painting canvases on the walls. There were countless scribbled-on sheets of paper scattered all over the cream floor, along with an assortment of soft toys, which included the Princess Aurora teddy bear lulling against the DVD player.

"Wow! You've been busy!" Kurt looked around, fighting the urge to start tidying up.

"Well, Monica was drawing with me earlier," Lily explained, gesturing some of the more accurate drawings. "But she had to go do big-girl's stuff…can you draw?" she asked Blaine.

"Yes, he can," Kurt said before Blaine could modestly deny out of habit. Lily's little face lit up in a big smile, making her look even cuter.

"Great! Can you draw Simba? And Nala?"

"I shall do my best, Miss Evans," Blaine answered formally, which made her giggle. Then she turned to Kurt. "Can you help me colour in the last ones?"

"Sure, honey,"

It was quite relaxing, lying on the floor crayoning Disney characters while listening to the chatter of a three-year-old. Well, and a half. Mustn't forget the half. Kurt laughed every time Lily called Blaine Eric. It was great watching them together, the way Blaine was so good with her, always making her laugh and giggle. This was definitely the most fun Kurt had ever had baby-sitting.

Every now and then, Blaine would catch his eye, and they'd smile at each other for a moment. Kurt felt warm and happy, melting in his golden eyes…

"Wow! They look awesome!" Lily leaned over and looked at the guitarist's picture. He'd drawn them as cubs, when they were little. The likeness to the cartoon was incredible, the facial expressions funny and light.

"Thanks," Blaine grinned, finishing Simba's front paws.

"Simba and Nala were best friends when they were baby lions," she observed. "Like you and Kurt,"

"Best friends?" Kurt was surprised-where did she get that from?

"I saw you holding hands in the mall-that's what me and my best friend do. So you must be best friends,"

"Yes. Kurt is definitely my best friend," Blaine smiled as his boyfriend with those melting honey-coloured eyes. "My best friend ever,"

A warm feeling seemed to cuddle the countertenor's heart. "Blaine is mine too," He smiled back, thinking for the gazillionth time how perfect he was.

"Oooh, I have a text!" Blaine sang as his phone buzzed. He sat up, getting it out of his pocket and tapping in the pin code.

"Who from?" Kurt leaned around eagerly.

"Wes…Oooh, and a missed call! I'm loved!"

"Who from?"

But Blaine's face had changed, suddenly, horribly. It had fallen to the ground, hitting the floor with such a force it shattered. He looked at the phone in disbelief. Lily carried on colouring, blissfully unaware, but Blaine looked confused-then scared.

Worried, Kurt checked out the caller ID-and gasped.

Neither could speak.

_One missed call from: Dad_

**Dun dun dun! **

**More soon!**

**SPOLIERS: More babysitting :D and fluffiness :D**

**Thank you much to everyone who's reviewed! It really means so much! Please continue doing so!**

**If anyone has any ideas or anything they'd like to happen when they move into the apartment, please let me know! :D **

**Thank you for reading! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for all your amazing reviews! I'm staggered at the positive response this has got so far! I couldn't be happier :')**

**Please keep reviewing, and I'll keep the chapters coming, and as always thank you for reading :')**

**Hope you enjoy :')**

"_This is Edward Anderson, please leave a message,"_

Blaine started at the sound of his father's voice. He'd gone out into the hall, leaving the worried Kurt to keep Lily amused as he phoned the man who'd not so long ago disowned him.

But the thing had gone to answer phone. Really, he was half-relieved. However, he'd-deep down-really quite wanted to talk to him.

His mother wanted him back, still loved him. It wasn't yet clear how Blaine felt about this, but he'd pushed that issue to the back of his mind for now. His father, however, was a different story…

"Urm…hey, it's me. Blaine. Well…you phoned me earlier and…I just wondered if it was anything important?…well…bye,"

Quickly slamming the "End Call" button, he leaned back against the wall, feeling like he'd just been almost knocked unconscious. Letting out a groan, he slumped to the floor.

Why on Earth would he have phoned? Blaine honestly couldn't think of a reason. His head was going round and round everything, ears echoing with those final dreadful words his father had said to him, sticking like glue…

No. He couldn't sit here like this. He couldn't keep going over possibilities, that would help no one. There was nothing to do but carry on. He cranked the volume on his phone up to ten so he definitely wouldn't miss a call, and, taking a deep, calming breath, got up and went back into the living room.

Lily was still lying on her front beside Kurt, hap-hazardously colouring with a red crayon. Kurt himself was shading in with careful strokes, listening to her cute childish chatter. Smiling, Blaine took a moment to think how adorable Kurt was. He allowed himself to imagine the countertenor like this with their own children…

"Prince Eric!" Lily waved, grinning. Instantly, Kurt shot to his feet.

"What happened?" he asked urgently.

"Nothing, it went to answer phone,"

"Oh," He sighed with what could have been relief.

"Lets forget about it now," Blaine said firmly, sitting back down and picking up the yellow crayon.

The atmosphere returned to normal as they companionably coloured, mostly just listening to Lily, who never seemed to run out of things to say. She was very articulate for a three-year-old. Blaine was actually enjoying himself a lot, and evidently so was Kurt. It was strange-but maybe being good with kids was a mutual strength?

"Oh, hello there,"

Looking up-there was suddenly a thirteen-year-old girl stood in the doorway. She also had golden hair, but she evidently had straightened it. This had to be Monica. She was pretty-but her freckled face was covered in make-up. Utterly covered. She wore foundation a shade too dark, her eye liner and mascara so thick, and her lip gloss so heavy she looked like she'd been dipped in treacle. She was clothed in a small denim skirt with glossy black tights and a white silky flowery top. From how it hung off at the chest, Blaine guessed the top belonged to her mother. She smiled with very white teeth, her eyes darting from Kurt to Blaine, then back again.

It took him a second-then it clicked. Of course. Two high school boys coming over. "Homework assignment" forgotten. Blaine felt a pang of sympathy.

"Hi there," Kurt had obviously come to the same conclusion-but smiled politely. "You must be Monica,"

She eyed the countertenor up keenly. "Yes. That's me. And you are…?"

"I'm Kurt, and this is Blaine,"

"Hey," Blaine smiled politely.

"Hi, Blaine," There was the hint of a slight girlish giggle in her voice, though she was trying to keep it breathy and low.

"Monica, why is all that on your face?" Lily asked curiously. "It looks weird,"

Monica looked furiously at her sister. "You wouldn't understand, Lily," She strolled over to the couch and sat down, crossing on leg over the other like Kurt did. "Anyway, isn't it past your bedtime?"

"No. I get to stay up until _midnight_,"

"Well, seven," Kurt smiled, still colouring.

"Mommy said you have to help me get ready for bed," Lily informed her sister. "And read me a story!"

Looking annoyed, Monica rolled her eyes a little. She was obviously not an affectionate big sister. But she was still looking at Kurt and Blaine like they were rock stars.

"So how's the homework?" Kurt asked her conversationally.

"Oh, it's Shakespeare. Boring!"

"I _love_ Shakespeare," chorused Kurt and Blaine-then grinned at each other.

"Oh. Well. Some of it's good," Monica said quickly.

"Which one are you doing?" Blaine asked.

"_Romeo and Juliet," _

Kurt whooped while Blaine groaned.

"Hey, what's wrong with _Romeo and Juliet_?" Kurt poked his boyfriend in the ribs.

"Oh, it's just the constant whining from the "hero"!" Blaine slapped a hand to his forehead dramatically. "He's worse than Hamlet for wallowing in self-pity! At least with Hamlet you kind of feel sorry for him because of his dad dying and his evil uncle, but with Romeo, he seems to _enjoy_ feeling miserable and having Benvolio pour sympathy on him!"

"But he's in love," Kurt jabbed him again. "Surely you know what that's like?"

"It's just he's so fickle! He snaps from Rosalind to Juliet in about two seconds. God, both Romeo and Juliet need a slap,"

"Okay, maybe you're right about the needing a slap," Kurt smiled. "But the language is so beautiful…" He looked into Blaine's eyes, speaking straight to him in his musical tone.

"_Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die, take him, and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with night…"_

Blaine's heart warmed and glowed. He found himself falling in love all over again as Kurt spoke the beautiful words of Shakespeare to him. He mouthed _I love you. _

"Yeah, I like that bit too!" Monica was obviously determined not to be left out. She'd obviously rubbed her eye, because there was now a small grey trail beneath it. Evidently, she was not particularly experience with make-up. Blaine felt a pang of sympathy. But he couldn't help but find it funny how she was looking at he and Kurt like they were chocolate cake, batting her spidery eyelashes. She had to have the worst gay-dar in the history of the world.

"So how old are you?" she asked, tossing her hair at Blaine. But before he could answer-his phone buzzed in his pocket, playing out his ringtone. A stab of dread shot through him. Kurt's head snapped up, looking scared. Slipping the noisy phone at out his pocket and getting up to leave the room, Blaine tried to give his boyfriend a reassuring smile. He left the living room, closing the door carefully behind hi. Looking at the caller ID: _Dad_. A name that rarely appeared on his phone anyway.

Taking a deep breath, which felt like his last, Blaine answered the call.

"H-hello?" he said uncertainly before he could hesitate.

"Hello," came that low, familiar monotone voice. The voice that used to read Blaine _Hansel and Gretel _over and over again at bedtimes, the voice which had congratulated him after his first guitar concert, the voice of the man who'd once driven all the way back across town to retrieve a teddy Blaine had left at Grandma's in the middle of the night. Where had all that gone? Why was the tone now so cold?

Mixed with the fear was a distinct scene of awkwardness as there was silence on the other end of the phone. "You-you called me?"

"Yes, I did. But…it was accidental,"

The tiny glimmer of hope in Blaine's heart was extinguished. But…something in his voice, deep within that monotone robotic sound-was a lie?

"Oh…really?"

"Yes,"

There was another silence.

"Right. So…" His father coughed slightly. "I'll…just be going then,"

On the other side of the door, Blaine cold hear Kurt's laughter, like silver bells in a breeze.

"Okay," Blaine answered, concentrating on filling his mind with nothing but the sweet sound of Kurt's voice.

There was a dialling tone.

Blaine was confused. Had the call really been an accident?

Well, it had to be. He could have said anything to him there, surely he would have done so if he really cared?

Forget him.

Forcing a smile on his face, thinking about how he was so loved by others in his life, he went back into the living room. He was walking away from his father with his head high.

"Right, Lily, you ought to be getting ready for bed now. It's almost seven,"

"Ohhh!" Lily moaned, sat on Kurt's lap. "Can't I stay up?"

"Sorry honey, it's bedtime,"

Kurt was obviously trying to catch his eye, but Blaine pretended not to notice. He didn't want to talk about what had just happened.

Ten minutes later, Lily was safely tucked up in bed in her very pink bedroom, surrounded by teddy bears, dolls and unicorns, with her curls neatly plaited. Monica had begrudgingly helped her dress, as instructed, but Lily was adamant.

"Want _Kurt _to brush my hair,"

"Want _Blaine_ to put all my teddies in the right place,"

"Want Kurt _and_ Blaine to read me a story," she was insisting at that moment, her face determined. So Monica, half-relieved, left the room.

"There's a film on TV we can watch later…" she suggested, and Blaine could have sworn she'd winked at him. Mrs Evans had two very bold daughters…

"Story!" Lily cuddled her teddy, looking at them expectantly. "One you make up,"

Kurt and Blaine sat down on each side of the foot of her bed, careful not to upset any of the soft toys dwelling there. Blaine looked to Kurt, not quite sure where to start. But the countertenor looked like he knew what he was doing. Reaching across, he took Blaine's hand and began, in a soft, soothing voice.

"Once upon a time, there was a princess named _Elizabeth_," He grinned at Blaine, preening. The guitarist pretended to roll his eyes-but took over the story.

"Elizabeth was so beautiful and lovely and kind, with hair as dark as…chocolate, skin as white as snow, and totally impossibly spot-free, and lips as red as blood. Ish," he smiled. He was telling the story to the little girl-but to Kurt, who was obviously starring in this. "She was so lovely and kind, that everyone who knew her adored her. And those who didn't were just jealous," Blaine nodded to let Kurt carry on.

"However, poor Elizabeth had a wicked stepmother called…Sue,"

"_Sue?_" Blaine snickered, laughing.

"_Sue_ was a fire-breathing evil dragon, with terrifying bleached yellow scales and a loud, megaphone-like voice which she used to shout insults at everyone,"

"It's not going to get scary, is it?" Lily asked, cuddling her unicorn closer.

"No, I promise," Kurt smiled.

"Anyway," Blaine continued. "Sue kept poor Princess Elizabeth locked up in a place called…Azkaban,"

Ignoring Kurt's groan, he carried on. "Azkaban was a dark, lonely place, and Elizabeth was all on her own,"

"She longed for a handsome prince to come save her," Kurt put in, squeezing Blaine's hand tighter.

"But because she was a strong, independent woman, she worked out how to save herself," Blaine raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend, grinning.

"Can princesses save themselves?" Lily asked, surprised.

"Yes, they can, sweetie," Blaine thought for a second. "Princess Elizabeth knew that Sue could not sense animals, so she used magic to turn herself into a dog-"

"Typical…" Kurt murmured.

"A big black dog, and she escaped, swimming across the sea to a kingdom called…Dalton,"

"She came to the town square-where she saw the prince of her dreams sat playing his guitar by the fountain," Kurt smiled at his boyfriend.

"Was he Prince Charming?" Lily asked.

"No…he was Prince…Weasley,"

Blaine laughed, falling in love with Kurt all over again. Prince Weasley indeed…

"He was even more handsome than Prince Charming…She fell in love with him at first sight," Kurt squeezed his hand.

"But he was very sad," the guitarist continued. "His parents, the King and Queen of Dalton were not very nice people. They didn't like him being…curly-haired, because they believed it wasn't right-and it wasn't what they wanted in a son…He was very upset," Blaine looked down. "And he felt like he was all alone…"

"Oh no!" Lily looked worried. "Will he be okay?"

"But Princess Elizabeth rescued him," Blaine grinned.

Lily looked shocked. "Can a princess save a _prince_?"

"Yeah," Blaine leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder. "She saved him from his solitude, and made him know what it was to be loved again,"

"Oh…" This was obviously a new idea for the little girl.

"And so Prince Weasley and Princess Elizabeth, went to live in a castle together, got married, and lived happily ever after," Kurt finished.

"Now goodnight, sweetie," Blaine started to get up. "Time to go to sleep,"

Lily looked nicely sleepy now. "Can I have a goodnight kiss?"

"Of course," Kurt leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead-then teddy too, which made her laugh a little.

"Blaine?" She looked expectantly at the guitarist, who felt a little awkward. Kurt nodded encouragingly at him. Carefully, Blaine gave her a kiss on the forehead, just where Kurt had.

"And Teddy," She held up the bear. Obligingly, Blaine did so.

"Now go to sleep," Putting his arm around Kurt, they began to leave the room. "Goodnight,"

"Night," Lily called sleepily.

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart," Kurt flicked off the light, carefully closing the door behind them.

"Awwwhhh," Blaine smiled when they'd got far enough across the hall.

"This was fun!" Kurt beamed. "I never knew kids were so awesome!"

"I enjoyed the bedtime story. The happy ending made my day,"

"Yeah…the princess and the prince went to live in a castle…" Kurt thought wistfully

"Well, Grandma's flat isn't quite a castle," Blaine admitted.

"But it will contain my Prince Weasley. And that's as good as a castle for me," Kurt stopped to kiss him slowly on the lips. Blaine drank in his sweet, clean smell, head spinning.

"And they lived happily ever after," Kurt beamed.

"I hope so,"

**Next chapter soon!**

**SPOILER: Saying goodbye…**

**Thank you! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey everyone! :')**

**100 REVIEWS! Oh my Colfer, I cannot thank you amazing people enough! You've no idea how ecstatic I am! :D Thank you! Much love xxxx**

**Alright, I wasn't going to do another babysitting chapter (though do say if you want a future one) but because people wanted to know what happened next, here's a summary of the rest of the evening:**

**After putting Lily to bed, Kurt and Blaine went back downstairs, where Monica was already watching the film she'd mentioned earlier. They watched it with her, even though the movie was pretty poor, and half an hour in Monica was practically sitting on their laps, shamelessly flirting. They thought it was funny, and didn't say anything, but a while later Monica was in an embarrassed fluster because her naturally curly hair had begun to show through the straightening. Kurt offered to help her re-do it, and ended up wiping all her smudged make-up off and giving her a full-scale age-appropriate make-over. Under Kurt's skilful hands, she finished up looking like the pretty thirteen-year-old she was. All the while, she and Kurt keenly discussed Taylor Lautner, whilst Blaine remained adamant that Edward Cullen was actually Cedric Diggory (which he is). By this time, she'd worked out they were gay, and felt jolly silly. She went up to bed at ten, and half an hour later Mr and Mrs Evans returned, delighted with the success of their choice of baby-sitters, and asked them to do it again sometime…**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! :')xxx**

Kurt's eyes fluttered open-and the first thing he saw was a miniature Christmas tree on the table beside Finn's bed. He groaned. That thing was traditional with his step-brother. The quarterback had it since he could remember, and if you walked past it too fast, it sang "Jingle Bells" in an alarming voice. Ah well. He wouldn't have to put up with it from tomorrow night…

Yes, he was nervous about moving in with Blaine. Very nervous. But also-excited beyond anything. To spend almost all his time with the guitarist he loved…

Burt still was anything but happy. He actually had barely been speaking to him the last few days. Kurt felt bad, but that was exactly how his father wanted him to feel, so he might change his mind. However, even he could tell Burt knew he was fighting a lost cause.

"Oh. You're awake," Finn himself had appeared from behind his bed.

"Good morning to you too, brother dear,"

"Morning? It's, like, half twelve,"

Kurt squeaked in surprise. "What? I never sleep this late!"

"Looks like you do," Finn picked up some kind of remote-control racing car. "Anyway, I'm going out to race Puck," He sloped out of the room.

Kurt slumped back down on his pillows, not feeling like getting up. He reached a hand across Blaine's side, and found it was cold. His boyfriend must have been up hours ago-the camp bed had been sufficiently messed up as a subterfuge for Kurt's parent's benefit. It was a little strange, how they slept together every night now, but had never "done" anything…Moaning again, Kurt pulled the duvet over his head to block out the light.

He must have fallen back to sleep, because the next thing he knew, there was a big crash just beside the bed. He shot up with a start-to see his boyfriend in a clump on the floor.

"Urm…Blaine, did you just fall over?"

"Oh, you're awake," Blaine said, in a tone far nicer than Finn's, rubbing his head. "I didn't fall, I merely attacked the floor,"

"I see. Are you okay?" "Yeah, fine," Blaine picked himself up, smiling at Kurt like he was the most special person in the world. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you,"

"It's not a problem. You should have woke me earlier," Kurt subconsciously neatened his hair up.

"I didn't have the heart to…Hang on a second," Blaine began to walk toward the door.

"What?" Kurt reached out a hand and grabbed the back of his shirt. "Where are you going,"

"_Mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia let me go_!" Blaine twisted from his grasp. "Patience!"

Kurt folded his arms and pouted as his boyfriend retreated from the room-but he was back in under a minute with a tray.

"Oh my Barbra!" Kurt exclaimed as Blaine laid the breakfast tray on his lap with a bow.

"Well, it was supposed to be breakfast, but I guess it's more like _lunch _in bed now,"

"That makes me sound extremely lazy. Oh, you're so sweet!" Kurt gave him a kiss-he'd even put a yellow carnation beside the glass of orange juice. "Stop spoiling me!"

"I love spoiling you, Sleeping Beauty," Blaine sat down beside him, resting his head on his shoulder and helping himself to the French toast. "Any reason for the extended lie-in?"

"I don't know," Kurt snuggled into him.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. "Kurt…"

"Huh?" the soprano answered, draining the orange juice glass.

"My mom phoned this morning,"

Kurt almost jumped out of his skin. "_What_?"

Blaine's hands were clasped in his lap nervously. "She called me around nine-that's what woke me up. You slept right through it. So I got up and went into the living room-and it was her,"

"What was she like?" the countertenor asked urgently.

"Unnervingly civil," Blaine looked like he didn't know what to make of it. "She asked me how I was doing like we were distant relatives, then…it sounded like it just slipped out, she said she missed me,"

"That's great!"

But Blaine looked odd. "Then, she invited us out for coffee,"

"_Us_?"

"Us as in me and you," Blaine told him.

"Wow…" Kurt was a little thrown.

"Yeah, she was…odd. Anyway, I said I wasn't sure if we could-" "What? Phone her back and tell her yes!"

"Are you sure?" Blaine looked surprised.

"Of course! Blaine, this could be your chance to get your mom back! What's wrong?" Kurt was confused by his boyfriend's lack of enthusiasm.

"I know…but it's weird. Kurt, she'd _never_ be seen out in public with her son and his boyfriend, not in a million years, even if she is still my mother," He sighed. "Seriously, regret or not, she's definitely not fully accepting of who I am yet. And she referred to you as my "friend", which means she doesn't accept you as my boyfriend. And if she doesn't accept you, there's no way I can build any kind of relationship with her,"

Touching as Blaine's devotion to him was, Kurt wasn't sure. "Blaine, she's your _mother_-"

"But you _are_ my life now, Kurt. And I hope you're going to be that for a long time. And if she can't accept that, then how can I accept her? Look, you didn't hear the stuff she said to me that night…"

Kurt didn't know quite what to say.

Blaine was obviously not ready to forgive her yet. The countertenor understood-but how could they move forward from this if Blaine couldn't? Mrs Anderson was sorry, terribly sorry-he was sure. This woman just wanted her son back.

And she'd invited _both _of them for coffee? Kurt knew she was a long way from fully accepting Blaine-but she'd get there. However, only if Blaine was prepared to try too. This was a two way street. Blaine had to talk to her, face to face.

Kurt had no doubt she still loved him as only a mother could her son. And if their relationship was strained for a while, if he was still just the "friend" for a bit, if they weren't close as close-it was worth it.

Because he knew what it was like not to have a mother, and he did not want that for his boyfriend.

"We should definitely go for coffee with your mother," Kurt said surely.

"But-"

"Blaine, she's ready to try. Aren't you?"

The guitarist looked down. There was silence for a minute. Then-

"Yes,"

"Good," Kurt pulled his boyfriend into a hug. "You won't regret this, I promise,"

"Hmm…" Blaine still didn't sound sure. "Okay. But if she says anything to you-"

"She _won't_," Kurt said determinedly. "She doesn't want to mess this up,"

"Neither do I," Blaine admitted.

The countertenor knew their relationship was getting back on track. Now, there was just his father…but that was a different problem…

"Coffee, then," Blaine tried a smile. "This evening,"

"Sounds great," Kurt smiled. "Then tomorrow…"

"We move in!" Blaine looked around at the boxes of stuff which filled the bedroom. Kurt had spent a long time sorting everything out. They were just about ready.

"It's weird," he admitted. "Leaving…"

"I know," Blaine kissed him gently on the hair. "I know,"

**More soon-please keep reading and reviewing! :')**

**Thank you so much! :')**

**SPOILER 1: Saying goodbye…**

**SPOILER 2: Fluffiness :')**

**SPOILER 3: Mr Anderson will come face to face with his son…**

**Thank you! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey everyone :D**

**Important chapter! Hope you all enjoy, and please review! :')**

**Thank you for reading! Big hugs to all of you xxxx**

**Best wishes, PhantomVOldyGleek24601 xxxxx**

Blaine walked slowly down the path. All around him was a sea of grey, white and black tombstones, stood up in perfect lines like soldiers. It was quiet and empty, save for a few singing birds flitting amongst the surrounding trees. The place was unnervingly deserted-he was not scared of ghosts, but it was still a little eeire being alone in a cemetery.

He passed countless graves, varying degrees of neatness. Some were shiny and new, covered with flowers and messages. Others were older, but still with respectful flowers in aging vases. Some were craggy and messy, an old bouquet rotting on the stained stones. Blaine felt a little sad. These people had been forgotten. It was as if there was no one left to care.

Following the path, he noted various inscriptions and names and dates pressed onto the headstones. He passed one grave, death date only a few months ago that was covered in flowers, colourful windmills and children's toys. He felt a distinct pang, knowing the resident of the grave must have been so young. It was funny how people were snatched-a car driving too fast, a disease, a fall. A heart attack.

Nearly there now. He carefully neatened the huge bouquet of flowers in his hands, to change with the last ones. Ah. He could see it now. The neat grey marble headstone still covered with flowers from friends. He felt strange as he looked at it, like he did every time he'd visited since she'd died. But it was getting easier. The cemetery felt peaceful around him, his mind feeling open as the wind gently blew. The air was cold and wintry now-well, it was December. Grandma had always loved Christmas time…

At last he reached the grave. Standing silent for a moment, he read the inscription, in it's clear gold text: _Lucy Susannah O'Malloy, Beloved Sister, Aunt, Friend and Grandmother. _He felt a little bad now that "Mother" wasn't included. But that couldn't be helped. He was still a little sore about his mother not coming to the funeral, but he hadn't addressed that issue at Starbucks yesterday.

Amazingly, it had gone really well. Blaine was astounded. Seemingly, his mother and Kurt got on fine, their designer labels and beauty products a point for conversation. Kurt was effortlessly charming and lovely, and she was definitely warming to him. Blaine could tell she wasn't fully comfortable yet-but she was making an effort. Maybe one day, he could go to her as his mother again…

Gently, he lay down the flowers beside all the others, using the bottle of water he'd bought to perk them up a little. It looked like snow was coming, so he didn't know how long they'd last, but there you go. He'd seen a small wooden Holland-style windmill at the garden centre the other day, and was thinking about getting that for her.

"Hey, Grandma," he whispered, kneeling down on the grass beside. The place was silent-but Blaine felt like she could hear him anyway. She always had been a great listener.

"I miss you," he murmured into the stones that covered the grave.

Suddenly, Blaine felt weird. Something wasn't right.

Someone was standing behind him.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Kurt, that's the last of it," Finn piled the very last box into the back of the van he'd borrowed from someone and rubbed his back. Turning around-his brother was nowhere to be seen. "Kurt?"<p>

Footsteps studded the stairs like a sewing machine as Kurt dashed onto the landing. Jumping up to reach, he pulled the latch, and the trap door opened to the attic. The automatic stairs slowly snaked down, and no sooner had they touched the floor, he'd monkeyed up the rungs and climbed into the space.

He'd been gripped by this sudden urge. A need to see this thing one last time.

The usual musty smell filled his nostrils. He flicked the temperamental light swich, which, after a second, blinked on. The space was illuminated. It was full of boxes, photo albums, broken furniture, you name it. Kurt spotted his first bike lulling in the corner, an ancient book on cars of his father's yellowing on a shelf. This was the Hummel museum. Everything that could have been chucked-but for some reason or another had hung on.

Kurt looked around-until he found what he was looking for. Clambering over the abyss, he made his way over to the far corner-where everything of his mother's was kept.

Burt couldn't bear to throw anything of her's away. For eight years after she died, nothing had been moved. If you didn't know, you'd have thought she still lived there. Her hairbrush, her toothbrush, the cushions on the windowseat were permanently arranged exactly how she liked them. A tissue blotted with her lipstick had stayed on the side by the sink for ages. All her clothes remained in the wardrobe, all her shoes neatly lined up. The whole house was in a time warp.

When Finn and Carole moved in, of course things had to change. But in a way, it helped. Together, Kurt and his father had carefully put everything into boxes, as if it were the crown jewels, wrapping the precious things in bubble wrap. Kurt had tied each box with lavender ribbon, her favourite colour, and they'd been placed carefully in the attic like happy memories always at the back of your mind that could be accessed any time.

Kurt fingered the ribbon of the first box, which he knew contained all her pretty clothes, neatly folded. But the thing he was after lay just beyond.

He came to the old dresser, and looked at it for a moment. This had been her most treasured possession. It had been a wedding gift from her parents, and it was an antique, beautifully engraved with wreaths of flowers. Kurt had always loved it.

Slowly, he opened all the drawers one by one, gently, as if it could shatter at any time. Already he could smell it. That sweet scent of her perfume that had comforted him for the last ten years, helped him sleep at night, helped him remember.

Carefully, he lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. He drank in the sweet smell, his head filling with happy memories and pictures. He could see her face right now, sweet and healthy, not the pale, thin, sick, drawn face he'd seen that last time in hospital. He remembered her in her glory, carefully made-up with her brunette hair curling past her shoulders, smiling with perfect white teeth, laughing…he could almost hear it…

It was like coming home after a heavy rainstorm to a nice warm bed, comforting and a release just to think. He still missed her…

"Kurt? Where are you?" It was his father's voice. But Kurt didn't want to be disturbed. His eyes remained closed.

"Kurt?" Burt sounded worried.

Sighing, Kurt began to stand up. One last time, he turned around to look at the dresser, his porthole back to his mom. The house she'd lived in, walked around every day, the mirrors she looked in, the couch she'd lie on watching _Oprah_…saying goodbye wasn't easy. Not at all. He didn't know how he was going to cope. And his father...

* * *

><p>Blaine's heart froze into ice. He could hear the Someone breathing low behind him. The sound of the breathing was…just like his own.<p>

He knew who it was.

He couldn't turn around. It was like an invisible force pulling him, trying to prevent him from facing the fact that right behind him was the man he'd been dreading to see. The voice that still haunted his nightmares with the last words he'd said to him, before shutting him out of his life. The man who'd called him _disgusting, wrong_, and a million other things in that last shouting match in the hall of his old home. The man who'd disowned him. The man who seemed barely able to talk to him on the phone.

And now they were within feet of each other.

Slowly, Blaine stood up-and before he could stop himself, turned around. With shock-he realised he was now face to face with his father.

They were exactly the same height now. Mr Anderson's face was so like Blaine's own, but more lined and paler. His grey hair, now thinning so it was not so curly, was hidden beneath a black hat. He was dressed in a severe business suit with an overcoat, complete with tie and smart shoes. In his hand was a briefcase, and he wore black gloves.

His eyes, grey and empty-were unreadable.

Blaine's throat seemed to have clogged up. He didn't know whether this was fear, hatred, or both. As he looked into his face, a shiver went up Blaine's spine.

Anger, which he'd bottled up for weeks, was brewing inside him, desperate to burst out. He wanted to shout, tell this man exactly what he thought of him. By God, he deserved it.

Eventually, after an agonisingly long silence, Blaine spoke.

"What are you doing here?" His voice had come out louder than planned, echoing slightly through the empty graves.

Mr Anderson just looked at him for a moment. It was like-it was like he was as lost for words as Blaine. But it wasn't long.

"Blaine," It was almost a greeting in that monotone voice. Suddenly, Blaine could hold it in no longer.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" He was almost shouting. But Mr Anderson did not even flinch, as if they were merely discussing the weather. Blaine noticed he couldn't quite meet his eye.

"Your mother…told me she spoke to you," His voice was still quiet.

"Yes. She did," Blaine's voice was full of defiance.

"And your…your friend,"

"Kurt," Blaine said bluntly, looking hard at him. But the man still could not meet his eye.

"Kurt," Mr Anderson repeated. There was something strange about the way he said the name, but Blaine couldn't put a word to it.

"What is your problem?" Blaine burst out with, wishing he could have worded it better, but that was exactly what he meant. "What is your problem with me?" He looked expectantly at his father.

It was so infuriating-his expression did not change in the slightest. Blaine would almost have preferred it if he'd shouted. But this careful silence, the steady tone, the clasped hands in front of him.

"Well?" Blaine demanded.

"Your mother is very upset," Mr Anderson said. He walked slightly to the left, then back to the right.

"I know!" Blaine spat.

Mr Anderson paced back and forth again. The wind whistled through the graves.

"Why are you here?" Blaine charged him again. "Did you just come here to gloat?" He was livid with anger. How could he do this to him? Had he just come to torture him? What was his game, never giving a straight answer?

There was silence for a long while.

"Someone at work asked me how you were yesterday,"

Blaine was taken aback at the random remark. Why the hell was he making out they were having a normal conversation? "Oh yeah?" His tone was challenging.

"Yes. They asked me, by way of a joke, if you had a girlfriend yet," His voice was still monotone.

Blaine was fuming. "Did they now?" he hammered. "And what did you say? Did you lie? Did you say I had a nice girlfriend, that I was going off to college to become a lawyer, or joining you in the business? Did you tell him I was the perfect son you want? Well, newsflash for you, I'm not. I'm not your perfect son. And I never will be. Actually, according to you, I'm not your son at all! Why are you even talking to me? Why are you here? You weren't here for me when Grandma died-I could have been all alone for all you knew! You weren't here for me when I needed you most, when the only person in my family who's ever fully loved me for who I am was gone!" He gestured at the grave behind him, angrier than he'd ever been in his whole life. He felt on fire, burning. "Where were you when we buried her?" His voice was raising more and more, not caring this was a cemetery. "Come on then, what did you tell this work colleague? I'm just _dying_ to know!"

"I told him the truth,"

It was like the whole world had stood still. Blaine felt like he'd just been plunged into water. The sound was blocked out from his ears, making the distant cars on the road seem light years away in the distance. Those quiet words in that monotone voice rang in his ears. No. He must have heard wrong.

"W-what?"

"I told him the truth," Mr Anderson repeated. For the very first time-he was looking Blaine in the eyes.

Blaine was frozen. A thousand questions were racing into his mind like darts, each one more confusing than the next. What on Earth? Was this man saying, this man who'd disowned him for being gay-

"What-what do you mean the truth?" he tried.

Suddenly-there was the tiniest hint of an emotion in the mask that was Mr Anderson's face. The merest scrape of-remorse?

"I told him that my son did not have a girl friend,"

"Is that it-?"

"I told him that my son did not have a girlfriend because-" Mr Anderson paused, as if having to admit something unpleasant. "Because he is not…that way inclined,"

Blaine was shocked.

That didn't even cover it. He was shocked right through, right to the bone, his very heart.

This could not be happening.

He didn't know what to think.

"You told-" the guitarist managed after a full minute. "You told him that I was gay?"

"I did," Mr Anderson looked like he didn't quite like this decision-but it was made now.

Blaine couldn't believe it. Quite literally, his brain could not register. His head was spinning, refusing to take it in. "What-_why_?" he managed.

Mr Anderson carefully took off his black gloves, pulling them slightly between his hands. He made no sound for a moment.

"I went to see my father last night,"

The guitarist was surprised-he'd never met his paternal grandfather. All he knew was he was in a nursing home and didn't know what day of the week it was half the time. His father _never_ went to see him, apart from on his birthday. Curiously, he waited for his father to continue.

"Sometimes…sometimes he come out with the strangest things-he can't help it. Usually, he doesn't know what he's on about. But…sometimes, he says something that makes perfect sense…I'd been…thinking about you, and your mother, and…well, I'd been thinking anyway. In some ways, my father is very clever. He can sense when people are not quite at ease, and…"

Wow. That was probably the most this quiet, reserved man had ever said at one time. And, in his voice, he sounded-almost human.

"What did he say?" Blaine asked.

Mr Anderson took a second. Then, looking Blaine straight in the eyes, he said: "Courage,"

Blaine visibly jumped. He was shocked, and amazed. A tiny glimmer of the smallest hope began to rise in his chest…

"The Andersons are a proud family," Mr Anderson continued. "Many of us have died for our country, fighting for what we believe to be right. And I was always taught to fight for what I believed in too. And…so were you,"

Blaine's heart was pounding.

"I always wanted you to be proud of you, whatever you may think. I know, I said some things…because you're not what I perceived you should be,"

It was true.

"What I said that night was…unforgivable. I admit. But what I really saw in you, when you were saying all that stuff…you were fighting for what you believed in. And, looking back…I admire you for doing it. You really showed you are an Anderson,"

Blaine was more shell-shocked than ever. The small bubble of hope was growing, in this insane moment. "Does this mean…I'm still in your family?"

Mr Anderson hesitated for a second. Then, with the air of not quite ease: "Blood is thicker than water,"

Blaine almost gasped. This was…this was…he couldn't even put a word to it.

"I was reminded of that when my father said that word. I'm not saying I agree with your…" He coughed. "sexual orientation…but I want to learn to be proud of you the way you are of yourself. Because…you are still my son,"

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine could have sworn the sun came out a little. Like there was new life, a new hope. A new start.


	28. Chapter 28

"He _what_?" Kurt gasped.

"I know right! Crazy!"

Kurt gaped at his boyfriend, who'd just rushed back to the house and excitedly gabbled the whole story to him of what had gone on between he and his father at the graveyard. The countertenor had dropped his vanilla cookie on the floor.

"Oh my Gaga…" He was speechless.

"Kurt, he's nearly accepting us! He's nearly accepting us!" Blaine danced him around the room joyfully, picking him right off the ground and spinning him until he was dizzy. "I'm so happy!" he sung, unnecessarily.

"This is…" Kurt struggled to find the word. "Astonishing!"

"I know!" Blaine's grin stretched a mile wide. "Oh, Kurt, this is amazing! I_ knew _people could change!" He pulled Kurt into a rib-cracking hug. "They're accepting us! Well, nearly. But they're going to!"

"Wow…" The countertenor was still a little stunned.

"What's wrong?" Blaine was suddenly all concern, cupping Kurt's face in his hands.

"Nothing!" Kurt's own face mirrored Blaine's, as he took it in. "This is outstanding!"

"Oh my God!" Blaine spun him around again, laughing with excitement and relief. "Kurt, you've no idea how much this means to me!"

* * *

><p>Much of what Kurt owned was now in cardboard boxes, suitcases and bags in the back of the borrowed van sat on the drive. There was still stuff of his in the house-when he was spending two nights a week here and with the small size of the apartment taken into consideration, there was no way he could take everything. But as he stood and looked around the basement bedroom-it seemed so empty on his side. There was a ghostly print on the wall where he'd taken down the big canvas of Judy Garland, the shelves were all depleted, all his CDs were gone, packed in boxes to be taken across town in just an hour's time.<p>

There was a definite, aching heaviness in his heart.

Standing still, Kurt took in the room. He knew he'd be sleeping in it twice a week, and it was still officially "his room"…but it still felt like goodbye. This was where he'd told his father he was gay, where he'd ran when he was upset, where he'd played for hours as a child. This room had been his pirate ship, his castle, his fairytale cottage, his entire kingdom, his door to anywhere he could dream up. This room was his sanctuary from the world, the place where he could be himself. The place he'd discovered he could sing. The place where he'd first doodled "Kurt hearts Blaine"…who'd known what would come out of that?

It was strange. He felt a bit of an idiot, getting emotional over four walls…but it was hard. Like throwing out a pair of your favourite old jeans, saying goodbye to an acquaintance. It was very bittersweet.

"Kurt?" Burt Hummel had come down to the basement. He stopped as Kurt turned to face him. Neither spoke for a moment, just looking at each other searchingly.

"…Carole's insisting you both stay and have dinner with us," said the father eventually.

"Of course,"

Coming a little closer, Burt's expression changed slightly. Softer. "You know, if it turns out this was the wrong decision, you can come right back here, okay? It doesn't matter what the reason-"

"Thank you," Kurt cut in with. He had been anticipating this conversation for a while.

"Really, Kurt, if you get homesick, or can't cope, or if he does anything to make you uncomfortable-"

"I'll be fine, Dad," Kurt spoke over him again determinedly.

Burt sighed heavily, knowing this was a lost cause. "…You always have a home here,"

"I know. Thank you,"

It all felt a little strained. Kurt felt bad-he felt like he was deserting him. But he had Carole and Finn-it wasn't like he was leaving him alone. Still-it felt strange.

Burt stepped even closer-and placed a hand on his shoulder. This action made Kurt's eyes well up with the threatening tears. "Who'd have thought, hey? You moving out?" His father's voice sounded odd. Thick.

"You know, when you were small-"

"Oh, Dad, don't, I'll start crying!" Kurt tried to laugh-but it came out far too high and cracked.

"When you were small…" Burt continued thoughtfully. "You had a teddy bear-Toto?"

Kurt started. "You remembered the name of my teddy from years ago, and you barely remember to put the washing machine on?"

Burt chuckled. "Funny the things that seem important…yes, Toto. Even though you said she was a girl. You used to cart her around everywhere with you, from when you were about two right up until around seven. You called her your baby, and used to look after her all day…you'd get me to hold her hand across the road with yours!"

The countertenor smiled weakly. "I remember,"

"Yes… You'd get her ready for bed in your old pyjamas, and you'd brush her fur and tuck her up beside you…I'm sure I've got photos somewhere…"

"Burn them," Kurt said darkly.

"I'll take them out at your wedding," Burt laughed a little, before carrying on. "Then one night, when you were about five, you were sat cross-legged on the bed, Toto in your lap, with such a strange look on your face. Well, I asked you what was wrong, and you said: "Daddy, what will Toto do when I start school?"

Kurt was surprised. "I don't remember,"

"Well, kids move on so fast…but you asked me, and you seemed really worried about it,"

"What did you say?"

"All the usual stuff…Toto can look after herself until you get home, she'll get her own honey, play with the other toys…but it got me thinking. What would _I_ do when you went to school? What about when you went to collage, had your first boyfriend-yes, I'd worked out it would be boyfriend by then-left home, got married, had kids of your own…You were so little back then, it seemed so far away…but it's all come around pretty fast!"

"Don't worry, Dad, I'm not at collage, or married, and I don't have any kids," Kurt smiled weakly. Burt did likewise, slightly forced.

"Still…it only seems two minutes ago when the doctor first placed you in my arms…I knew I'd meet death before I let you meet harm…you were so small, and helpless…and now you're moving out!"

"Dad…" A tear spilled down his cheek. "I'm only across town!"

"I know, but…don't need your old dad, anymore, now, hey?" He tried to laugh-but it came out strange.

"I'll always need you, Daddy," Kurt sniffed determinedly. Daddy? He didn't know where that came from-he hadn't called him "Daddy" since he was about ten.

Suddenly, Burt pulled him into a hug. He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into it, as did Kurt. They held on for a long time. It was strange-Kurt realised he only needed a few more inches, and he would have outgrown him. When did that happen? Kurt leaned into his father, the always constant person in his life, his rock, the man who'd almost died the year before, the man who'd held him all night when Mom died…

"Remember you can always come home," Burt's voice was still thick and choked.

Finally, the hug broke, and the two men took in one another, as if memorizing the faces like a map. Once again, Burt clapped his son on the shoulder, a small, sad smile on his lips.

"I'm proud of you,"

* * *

><p>Dinner was a nice affair. Funny stories were exchanged, jokes were made and memories shared. Kurt held Blaine's hand under the table, nervous excitement bubbling between them.<p>

But all too quickly it was over, and for once Carole abandoned the washing up to see them off.

On the driveway, Kurt hugged his stepmother long and tightly. "Thank you for everything, Carole,"

"Don't say anything, honey," Predictably, Carole was blinking back tears. What a bunch they were. "You're always welcome back any time-though I don't have to tell you that,"

"Thank you," Kurt said again. She'd been like a mother for the last year, helped him through crisis-and of course they wouldn't be here without her. Kurt owed her so much-but she seemed to understand as she patted his cheek, planting a kiss.

"You look after yourself now-and Blaine," she smiled, before moving onto the guitarist, pulling him close with such a force Blaine was almost knocked over.

"Love you," Kurt said to her-then turned to his father.

The emotional goodbye between them had already been said, and Burt was very aware they were outside in public-so there was an awkward embrace and back-slap. "Alright, buddy?"

"Yes, Daddy," Again, what was with the "Daddy"? It just slipped out. But Burt didn't mind.

"Good luck, son,"

Smiling, they parted. It was certainly bittersweet. But this wasn't goodbye at all. Kurt blinked hard, trying not to make the smile wobbly. "I love you,"

"Love you too," Burt squeezed his arm one last time-then turned to Blaine.

"You look after my son," he said rather fiercely.

"Yes, Mr Hummel," Blaine smiled trustworthily.

"I mean it," Burt was looking at him quite hard. "If-"

"Dad-" Kurt cut in, shaking his head.

"No, I understand," Blaine shook Burt's hand firmly. "I give you my word,"

The mechanic turned back to his son. "And you look after this one too,"

"I will," Kurt smiled at his boyfriend.

"Good," Burt slapped Blaine on the back in a matey way.

"Thank you so much for letting me stay, and for-" the guitarist began.

"Don't mention it," Burt smiled more warmly at Blaine than he ever had before. "If you ever need anything, you come right here, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine nodded. "Thank you,"

"Hey," Burt put a hand on each of their shoulders. "You're lucky to have each other. Don't forget that,"

"I know," Kurt and Blaine chorused-then laughed weakly.

"Ready to go!" Finn called from the van.

"Alright, be off with you," Burt grinned.

After last kisses from Carole and last-second advice, Kurt and Blaine were finally sat in the van beside Finn, who was starting the engine. Opening the window, Kurt took in his house one last time…then waved to his parents as they pulled out of the drive towards-well, their future.

"There he goes…" Burt watched with a sweet sadness as the van disappeared around the corner. He waved until the very last second, then slowly lowered his arm. Carole wrapped an arm around his waist supportively. They stood in silence for a moment.

"Do you thing this was the right thing?" he wondered aloud.

"They've grown up now," Carole kissed him. Burt sighed.

"They'd better be careful…"

Carole understood right away what he was on about. "They're in separate rooms,"

Burt could still just about hear the van as it continued down the road. In half an hour, Finn would be back-and there'd be a definite place missing in the house...

He snorted.

"Separate rooms my ass,"

**Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much and PLEASE review! :')**

**SPOLIER: Kurt might run into Mr Anderson…:O**

**Thank you so much! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	29. Chapter 29

**Hey everyone! So sorry for the long wait, I'm so busy! But hope you enjoy :')**

**Thank you for sticking with me, and thank you so much to everyone who's read or reviewed! Big hugs to all of you! Please continue doing so!**

**Also, I just realised how many people have favourited this! Thank you so much! Wow! It means so much xxxx**

**Now enjoy bread and wrestling in the Disney store xxxx**

At around ten o'clock in the morning, Blaine slipped his key into the front door, jiggling it slightly before it turned. The shopping bag he carried was cutting grooves in his palm, as it was quite a walk back from the Minute Mart.

Their first night in their new-well, not new-apartment had actually gone very well. By the time they'd sorted out the countless boxes, suitcases and bags, which had seemed to multiply on the journey here, it was almost midnight. Blaine had already gone through Grandma's stuff, donating a lot of it to the charity shop, but keeping a few special objects. However, there still didn't seem to be a lot of room in the flat. But they managed, and when the great task was done, they were so exhausted they just flopped right down on the couch and fell asleep.

That's how Blaine had left his boyfriend that morning, curled up like a kitten, making little breathing sounds. He'd watched him for a while, hardly daring to believe this was happening. Then, carefully tucking the blanket around his sleeping countertenor, he'd quietly slipped off to pick up a few things. It had taken longer than planned, but he didn't mind.

Finally the door opened. Blaine made a mental note to consider changing the locks due to stiffness, and entered the flat. Instantly-his nostrils were intoxicated with the unpresumptuous smell of baking bread. A huge wave of memories lapped over him, all involving this flat and that smell. Grandma was always baking bread…suddenly he was so strongly reminded of her, he had to take a second, before going to investigate.

Just by the door were a small pile of moving-in cards which had obviously just been posted through. Judging by the handwriting and appalling spelling, they were from the New Directions. That was nice of them. Breathing in the amazing smell of rising bread, Blaine walked through to the kitchen.

Evidently, Kurt did not have the hang of "lightly flour the surface". it looked like it had been snowing. However, the guy himself was miraculously neat as anything, not one spot on his loose grey designer sweater, nor his carefully-sprayed hair. He turned around on his heel and smiled a big, sunny smile at Blaine, who melted like the scrape of butter left on the sideboard. "Hey, sweetheart!"

"Hey, you," Blaine pulled him close and kissed him. "You smell like a boulangerie,"

"I've never done this before," Kurt admitted, wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist. "But how hard can it be?"

"Well, you're always full of surprises," Blaine kissed him again. "You'd better not be getting flour on this shirt. It's Armani,"

Squealing in shock, Kurt shot back a mile like he'd been burned. Sure enough there were white powdery handprints on either side. "Oh my Barbra!" Kurt looked like he'd just defiled a shrine. "I'm sorry!"

"Hey, no worries!" Blaine laughed at his panicking boyfriend. "It's just a shirt!"

"But-it's _Armani_-"

It took a while to calm him down.

"Mrs Evans phoned while you were out," Kurt informed him when he'd cooled off, and they were curled up on the floor with their backs against the warm oven. "She wants us to look after Lily and Monica all day tomorrow,"

"Oh…that's good," Blaine smiled. He'd immensely enjoyed the baby-sitting last time and had grown quite fond of the two girls. "But weren't we going to the mall to pick up that new lampshade?"

"Yeah…Mrs Evans said take them with us! It's going to be so fun," Kurt clapped his hands. "I always wanted a little sister to take shopping…and I thought we could take them to the park after. Lily would love that,"

"Sounds awesome," Blaine put an arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"You should take your shirt off," Kurt suggested, perfectly innocently, gesturing to the floury marks. But Blaine, being Blaine, decided to take it the wrong way.

"Just _what_ are you suggesting, Mr Hummel?" He raised his eyebrows. Kurt looked confused-then scandalised.

"Oh-no! I didn't mean-I mean-"

"Kurt, Kurt, calm down. I know what you meant," Blaine grinned, pulling him closer. "Really, relax! You're on such a tight wire today!"

"I..I wouldn't mind if you…you know, took your shirt off…" Kurt said shyly, looking a little sheepish.

Blaine did a double-take, surprised. He wasn't sure if Kurt was joking. "Bit early in the morning for that, isn't it?"

The countertenor's cheeks were flushing pink rapidly-but before he could say anything more, the timer on the oven went off. Squeaking in excitement and relief of a distraction, Kurt leaped up. Blaine shuffled along to let him take the bread out of the oven. It smelled amazing.

"Oh,"

The countertenor was looking reproachfully at the utterly flat, slightly burned mess at the bottom of the baking tray. "Well…that could have gone better…"

Blaine tried to hold it in-but a laugh bubbled out of him, and he was quickly in hysterics.

"Blaine!" Kurt pouted at him grumpily. "Don't laugh! I tried!"

"I know, and it was a brave attempt!" The guitarist was still chuckling.

"I'll try again sometime…" Kurt muttered darkly, still looking daggers at his boyfriend.

"Well, at least we know what we can feed the ducks at the park with!"

* * *

><p>"Kurt and Prince Eric!" The familiar small blonde cannon ball of a girl hurtled towards them, a grin a mile wide on her pretty, innocent face, arms outstretched. Blaine did not disappoint, picking her up and whirling her around making rocketship noises. She laughed delightedly, before grabbing onto Kurt, who gave her a cuddle, holding her on his slim hip.<p>

"How are you, sweetie?"

"I've got a new Princess Tiana dress," she told them proudly. "It's green,"

"Oh, that's great!" Kurt was pleased to see her; the never-ceasing energy and string of new thoughts and things to say were wonderful. Children were the luckiest people on earth-their minds wide open and full of promise and fairytales, with nothing to worry about except whether Santa will bring them that new bike.

"_And I'm almost there, I'm almost there, people down here think I'm crazy, but I don't care!" _sang Blaine, doing a funny dance to make her laugh.

"Lily, you forgot your jacket!" called Connie Evans from the doorway, holding out the adorable light pink coat with a fairy motif on the chest pocket. Reluctantly, Lily slipped down from Kurt and ran back to the house.

"If you're Prince Eric, am I Ariel?" Kurt said, preening.

"Ursula," snickered Blaine-before ducking hastily out the way of Kurt's bag.

"Hello," Monica had strolled coolly up to them, huge dark sunglasses covering most of her face. There was a little too much lipstick on her face, but at least there was no orange foundation. She stopped in front of them, one hand hooked casually in the pocket of her skinny jeans. "Kurt, Blaine," she greeted them, pouting a little.

Obviously, she was not going to let a little thing like them being gay stop her.

"Hey, Monica," Kurt smiled warmly at her. "How's life?"

"Oh, well…my science teacher is a _total _pervert and won't stop _staring_ at me-but other that that, cool,"

"I see," Kurt nodded understandingly. "We had one of those…" _Sandy Ryerson. _

Ten minutes later, they were off in Kurt's car towards the mall. It would have been shorter, but Kurt kept dashing back to check Lily's seatbelt. Monica was texting non-stop, her hands a blur on her Blackberry. Blaine kept Lily entertained (she hated car rides) by plugging his iPod into the car system and playing, you guessed it, Disney songs. It was probably worrying how many Blaine had on there, everything from _The Hunchback of Notre Dam _to _Duck Tales_, but at least it kept her happy, and stopped her turning green, as her mother had warned. Woe betide her if she was sick in Kurt's car.

After spinning around the parking lot for ages trying to find a space, they were finally headed into the huge mall. Lily hung onto one of Kurt's hands and one of Blaine's, trying to talk to them both at once, while Monica strolled confidently beside them, her face reading: _Look at me, I'm at the mall with two high school guys!_

In his head, Kurt counted: _Three, two, one…and…_

"DISNEY STORE!" exclaimed Blaine and Lily simultaneously, making a beeline for the brightly-coloured shop just ahead. Consequently, Kurt was dragged with them, the little girl being surprisingly strong. Behind, he could hear Monica hurrying along reluctantly, her high heeled boots clicking on the tiled floor.

It was hard to tell whether Lily or Blaine was more excited. Kurt leaned against a large box containing any number of large, soft Winnie-The-Pooh characters and watched them as they raced around. Currently, Blaine was making a toy Timon and Pumba talk to Lily in bang-on imitations. "_Hakuna Matata!" _he sang, doing accurate Pumba grunts, and Lily laughed delightedly.

"You, sir, are obsessed," Kurt told his boyfriend as Lily showed him a copy of a Belle tiara she had at home.

"Well, there are worse things to be obsessed with," Blaine shrugged, as Lily pulled his coat to show him the next thing.

"Look, it's you!" She waved a _Little Mermaid _colouring book at him.

Slouched next to Kurt, Monica stifled a yawn.

"Not really your thing?" asked the countertenor. Monica shook her head.

"I'm _way_ too old for this," she drawled.

Kurt just looked at his boyfriend as he paraded around in a Goofy hat.

"Well, we'll do something you want to do next, okay?" he compromised. Truth be told, he wasn't in a great hurry to leave the shop, with it's bright music and happy atmosphere himself.

"Monica, Monica!" Lily finally let go of Blaine and grabbed her sister's jacket sleeve. "Look at this!"

Sighing a little, Monica followed her little sister to the other side of the store.

"Whew!" Blaine flopped down on a massive Eeyore that was slumped on the floor. "How awesome is this shop! If only there was a Harry Potter store!"

"If only…you'd never leave the mall!"

Suddenly, Blaine sprang up, grabbed a felt toy sword from a nearby bucket-and attacked the unsuspecting countertenor. Kurt squealed in shock as he was "stabbed"

"Take _that_, Hook, you old codfish!"

"No fair!" Kurt grabbed a sword and brandished it. "En garde!"

Like a pair of kids, Kurt and Blaine began to duel, lunging and dodging the flimsy blades. Kurt's footwork was impressive-but his opponent faster and more practised. They were giggling like lunatics as the countertenor finally threw aside his sword, grabbed Blaine and began to mercilessly tickle him.

"Get off!" Blaine was instantly reduced to a helpless mess, being insanely ticklish. They ended up on the floor, a mess of arms and legs and laughter.

"Urm…"

The giggling boys looked up to see a very awkward, nervous-looking woman in the shop uniform, her face unsure whether to intervene. Simultaneously, Kurt and Blaine realised being in a tangle of limbs on the floor was not good etiquette in the Disney store. The woman looked disproving.

"Hey, where does it say two people can't fall hopelessly in love and have a quick chat on the carpet?" Blaine asked innocently.

Kurt had to bite hard on his lip to stop himself bursting out laughing. With a long-suffering sigh and much tutting, the employee went back to work.

"What a kill-joy," Kurt grinned as he got up, dusting himself off. "What was her problem?"

"Maybe she thinks we're _gay_!" Blaine pretended to look scandalised-then they both cracked up.

"Turn you into a frog!" Lily skipped over, brandishing a fairy wand at Blain, who obediently crouched down and began to hop around, making amphibious noises so even Monica cracked a smile. Lily laughed delightedly, turning to Kurt.

"Turn you into a…a…flower!"

Awwh that was nice. Kurt didn't really know how to "be" a flower, but before he could improvise, Lily had climbed up into his arms. He held her on his hip carefully, trying not to do it wrong. But somehow it seemed to come naturally to him.

"What sort of flower am I, hmm?" he asked her, jiggling her up and down a little.

"_Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare, it's deadly fun, but will sulk in the sun_!" Blaine sang, still leaping about as a frog. Kurt gave him a quick shove with his foot.

"You're a…a…a nice one," Lily struggled to think.

"A nice one," Kurt smiled.

"Pah!" Blaine crouched beside them. He looked up at Kurt so comically, the countertenor couldn't stop laughing. "Don't I get a kiss so I can turn into a handsome prince?"

"No, you look too funny," Kurt giggled. Blaine pretended to be heart-broken.

"Zap!" Lily waved her wand-and suddenly the handsome prince was stood upright.

"Thank you, Lily," Blaine pretended to bow to her, and she laughed delightedly.

"You're much nicer than Kurt!" But he grinned at his boyfriend. Lily turned away to look at something, still in Kurt's arms. "You look really cute with her," Blaine commented.

"Thank you," Kurt smiled at him, his heart glowing.

"You're so good with her-you're kind of comfortable. I'm always terrified I'm going to drop her!"

"Well, as long as she doesn't release any bodily fluids on me!" Kurt grinned, giving her a cuddle.

Swiftly, Blaine leant over and gave Kurt a quick, light kiss on the lips, like a breeze. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too," Kurt gazed into his love's eyes, endless worlds of molten gold, and he was home.

* * *

><p>"Whew!" Blaine flopped down on the couch. "What a cool day!"<p>

"Agreed!" Kurt sat down on his lap. "I love looking after kids,"

"I love coming home to this flat with you," Blaine kissed him properly. "Still can't believe we did this! Moved in together!"

"Yes, it's definitely worth the constant phone calls from my dad," Kurt snuggled into him. "I wish he wouldn't worry so much! Bless him…Coffee?"

"I think I'm going to hit the shower, actually," Reluctantly, the guitarist slid him off his lap and got up. "See you in a minute," He dropped a kiss on Kurt's hair, and headed off.

The countertenor leaned back on the couch, where the blanket they'd used last night was still curled up at the end. He wondered whether they'd sleep on this every night. No offence, but he felt funny about sleeping in a dead person's bed.

But more importantly…would they, like, _sleep_ _together_ sleep together?

Every time he brought it up, Blaine would go on about wanting to wait until Kurt was ready and comfortable, then would say something really sweet to get him off-topic. But the thing was-Kurt _was_ ready. He loved Blaine and Blaine loved him, and for God's sake they'd _moved in _together. But every time it was mentioned, the guitarist always found a way to avoid the subject.

Listening to the shower turn on, Kurt wondered…did Blaine just find him boring? Like, sexually boring? Okay, he was a total baby penguin, he admitted. But surely Blaine found him attractive? A little?

The thing was, Kurt didn't know where to go from here. He wasn't Santana, who never seemed to have this problem. How much convincing would Blaine need? He always treated Kurt like a fragile princess, never holding too tight or kissing too fiercely.

Well, Blaine wasn't exactly going to make the first move. So Kurt would have to make like Princess Elizabeth and find his own way out of this one.

But before he could plan anything, the doorbell rang. Humming "Once Upon A Dream", Kurt got up and skipped over to the door, still cheerful from shopping. He undid the latch and opened the door.

For a second, Kurt thought he'd gone into a time warp, because stood on the doorstep in front of him seemed to be a much older version of Blaine. But as he looked, the eyes were a cold grey. The man was dressed in a business suit and overcoat, and carried a briefcase in his black-gloved hand. His expression was blank as he looked at Kurt.

It took him a second-then with a start he realised-he was face to face with Mr Anderson. Blaine's father.

Subconsciously, he sprang back a little, staring at the man who'd thrown his boyfriend out. But had reconciled. What was he doing here?

Mr Anderson made no move to speak.

"Urm…" Kurt began nervously. "Hello,"

"Hello," His voice was so like Blaine's, but with none of the warmth. It was monotone and robotic. "You-must be Kurt,"

Kurt wasn't sure he liked the way Mr Anderson was looking at him.

"Yes, I am…" The countertenor was extremely uncomfortable. "Well…Blaine's busy right now-"

"Actually, it's you I wanted to see,"


	30. Chapter 30

"Oh,"

Kurt gulped. His hand floated subconsciously to his throat and began to pull at the neckline on his black and white knitted sweater. Nervously, he looked at Mr Anderson, wondering what to do. His first instinct was to call Blaine-

But this was his chance to talk to Blaine's father alone. Much as it scared him.

"Okay…come in," Respectfully, Kurt stepped back to allow Mr Anderson into the flat, holding the door open. Looking awkward and uneasy, Mr Anderson entered, looking around like an inspector. Mentally, Kurt quickly surveyed the flat-everything should be spotless. Every room was perfectly in order. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, Kurt shut the door. Mr Anderson stood in the hall, his grey eyes now fixed on Kurt, the expression still blank. Kurt had no idea what he was thinking. Anxiously, he showed him through to the living room, which was as clean and tidy as anything-but the blanket was still crumpled on the couch. The countertenor dashed over and draped it carefully over the back, hoping it would look like a throw.

"Urm…please, do sit down,"

Robotically, Mr Anderson lowered onto the couch sitting on the very edge of the seat. Kurt was very aware of how he stared at him, never taking his eyes off. It greatly unnerved him; he felt like he was being X-Rayed. Not wanting to sit beside him, Kurt perched on the footstool in front of him, taking it back a little so he wasn't too close.

"…Can I get you anything?" Kurt offered politely, after an awkward silence. Still, Mr Anderson stared at him, studying him like a painting.

"No. Thank you,"

Kurt could not get over how metallic his voice was. It almost wasn't human, more machine. He plucked nervously at the neckline, wishing the man would just _talk_. This was agonizing. Down the hall, there was the faint sound of the shower, on full-blast.

"Kurt Hummel, is it?" Mr Anderson said suddenly.

"Y-yes,"

"Like Cobain?"

What was his angle? Kurt was greatly thrown off by this conversational question.

"…Like Von Trapp," he corrected him, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

"Ah. Makes much more sense," Blaine's father said simply, still never moving his eyes off him.

There was another pause. Kurt waited.

"How long have you and…Blaine…been…together?" It was obviously a question he'd been dying to ask. Kurt could give him an exact date, but settled for:

"Since Regionals last year,"

"Ah. The show choir…thing,"

Shifting slightly, Kurt looked back into his steely eyes. The longer you were with him, the less intimidating he seemed, and the more just plain awkward. He felt a little less scared-but still frightened of the cold, staring eyes.

There was another silence.

"Who are your parents?"

Another question about him. Kurt's hand pulled at his neckline even more. "My dad is…Burt Hummel. Owns Hummel Motors?"

Mr Anderson thought for a second, then grunted in recognition. "And your mother?"

"She…she died,"

Kurt could have sworn, just for a second, Blaine's father's expression softened the smallest fraction. But it soon snapped back to the mask.

Mr Anderson still looked absolutely uncomfortable being here. It greatly bothered the countertenor. What was his problem? What was _anyone_'s problem with gays? Apart from stupidity. Despite everything he'd said to Blaine about wanting to try, he was still evidently weird about it.

How could anyone truly believe their own son was abnormal?

Mr Anderson's gaze never dropped. He took a deep breath, and Kurt saw his throat pulse as he swallowed.

"Look, urm, Kurt,"

Kurt wasn't sure he liked the way Mr Anderson said his name, but politely listened.

"…I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past while and…I want to make it very clear this is all very new for me. I'm bending everything I've ever believed in here…"

Anxiously, Kurt waited.

"But…I want to make the best of this. For Blaine,"

Make the best of _what_, precisely? If it had been anyone else, Kurt would have taken up the issue. But instead, he nodded. The "for Blaine" bit, he liked.

"So…" Mr Anderson scrunched his gloved hand into a fist.

Then, like it was the very last thing he wanted to do-he extended it to Kurt.

"Edward Anderson,"

Kurt literally died. His eyes practically popped out in shock and confusion-a bubble of hope beginning to form in his tight chest. But he quickly recovered, reaching out a slightly quivering hand and took it. The glove felt leathery and rough-but the long fingers inside closed around Kurt's smaller, pale hand.

And, just like that, Blaine's father and Blaine's boyfriend shook hands.

It was so awkward. Kurt remembered when Burt had met Blaine for the first time, the firm way they'd shaken hands like they were friends already, the way Burt was so keen to get on with him, and he with Burt. Kurt had been delighted.

This was not nearly as warm. Mr Anderson gingerly moved his arm up and down once or twice, his fingers barely gripping Kurt's hand at all. And he let go very quickly.

But fireworks were exploding in Blaine's mind, cheering crowds screaming, the bubble of hope bursting free into a million jets of happiness and euphoria. A very small line stopped Kurt from actually getting up and dancing around the room.

He'd met Blaine's father-and the man had actually shaken his hand!

He knew they weren't going to be best friends-but this was more than Kurt had hoped for.

And most importantly, Blaine was going to be delighted.

"Nice-nice to meet you, Mr Anderson," Kurt's voice sounded slightly out of breath-and he could feel a huge, relieved smile on his face.

"Nice…well…I'm glad I _have_ met you, Kurt," There was a slight relief in Mr Anderson's voice too. "Right…well…"

There was another awkward silence. But Kurt didn't mind. He felt like a huge weight had slid off his shoulders, and he could breathe properly again.

"You sure you wouldn't like coffee, or anything?" Kurt offered, more comfortably this time.

"Actually, that would be great,"

Getting up, Kurt shimmied into the kitchen-and to his surprise Mr Anderson followed, looking around at everything-particularly the huge _Wicked_ and Patti LuPone posters which now graced the walls. But he didn't say anything. He watched in silence as Kurt prepared the coffee, scurrying around trying to remember where everything was.

"My wife was talking about you this morning,"

"Oh?" Kurt asked, stirring sugar.

"She was right-you do look like a china doll,"

Making a slight giggling sound, Kurt wasn't sure if this was a compliment. It didn't sound like it in the monotone voice, but the words were okay.

"She said you seemed really sweet,"

This made Kurt smile. "Awwh, that's nice,"

Strangely, Mr Anderson seemed to be making conversation. Kurt was thrilled he was trying.

"You know…this wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be," the man admitted.

"Glad to hear it," Kurt smiled lightly, handing him the coffee mug.

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation…"_

The familiar, beautiful voice grew louder, and footsteps made their way toward the kitchen door.

"What?" A wet-haired Blaine had appeared-and almost gasped when he saw his father. "Kurt?" He dashed protectively to his boyfriend's side. "What's going on?"

"It's okay, Blaine. We're having coffee," Kurt indicated the mugs, nodding reassuringly at the guitarist.

If an alien had just materialised in front of him, he couldn't have looked any more shocked. His jaw had dropped to the floor. It was almost comic; Kurt wished he had a camera. The guitarist looked from his father to his boyfriend, his face reading: _I'm dreaming. _Kurt could have sworn he heard _oh my Rowling _whispered under his breath.

"Blaine," Mr Anderson awkwardly greeted his son.

"D-Dad?" It was almost a question. "What…are you doing here?" His tone of voice was like he was defusing a bomb.

"I just came to meet your…your…Kurt here," He gestured to the countertenor, who nodded.

Blaine's eyebrows disappeared under his hair. His golden eyes were wide, disbelieving. "_Really_?" he said, like he didn't dare believe.

"Yes," Mr Anderson coughed awkwardly. "I gathered…sooner rather than later…"

For a second, Blaine was frozen. Then…the very beginnings of a smile played around his lips.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked his boyfriend.

To the countertenor's amazement, there were tears forming in Blaine's eyes. But they showed no sign of falling as his face broke into a huge smile. Like he was the happiest guy in the world. "Dad…" He sounded a little choked. "_Thank you_,"

Looking down, almost like he was embarrassed, Mr Anderson grunted slightly. It was strange how much less scary he seemed now, compared to when he'd come through the door.

Kurt smiled, delighted for his boyfriend.

And-just for a second-there was the very ghost of a smile brushing Mr Anderson's thin lips.

"That's okay…son,"

**Whew!**

**Thank you so much for reading, and please review! :D **

**Oh dear! There was so many ways I could have gone with that, but I went the nice way :P Hope you enjoyed xxx**

**Awwh, they're nearly one big happy family! I'm so happy for Blaine! And as for Mr Anderson-changing the world one idiot at a time :')**

**Thank you so much, more soon! **

**PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx**


	31. Chapter 31

"Bye, then, Dad," Blaine followed his father into the hall towards the front door. Mr Anderson's lined forehead had smoothed out a little, making him look all the less severe. He hadn't stayed long-but long enough.

"Goodbye," he said, his voice that familiar robotic tone. But Blaine didn't mind now.

"See you soon?" the guitarist asked.

There was a short pause. "You probably will," Mr Anderson nodded.

"Well, goodbye," Blaine stood in the doorway as his father stepped out into the hall.

"Bye," Awkward as ever, Mr Anderson began to stride off in his shiny shoes, straightening his hat. But before he left-he turned around one last time. "Your…friend seems nice,"

Despite the use of the term "friend", a warm feeling spread through Blaine's body like hot chocolate. He loved it when people were nice about Kurt, even in the stiffest way. "Thank you," he smiled.

With a strange spasm, which might have been an attempt at a wave, Mr Anderson started off again down the hall. Blaine watched until he reached the elevator. As the grey doors slid, and the enclosed platform began to chug down-the guitarist sank down to the floor in the doorway, his head teaming with thoughts and feelings, too many for his brain to cope with-but he didn't mind. For something had come back. A piece of the puzzle.

Blaine Anderson fully felt he had parents again.

After a few seconds of silent reflection, he got up, a spring in his step that had been gone for a long while, and went back into the living room, where Kurt had tactfully waited. The moment he entered, the countertenor stood up gracefully, turning to him, one hand on his slim hip. He smiled Blaine's favourite smile, so his beautiful blue-green eyes lit up and a dimple appeared on his porcelain cheek. One perfectly-shaped eyebrow raised, Kurt waited for Blaine to speak.

As usual, Blaine caught his breath-but there was something more now. Like his love for him had rooted deeper, more certainly. As he looked into Kurt's archangelic face, he found himself falling in love all over again. Of it's own accord, a smile formed on his face as he wondered for the millionth time what he'd done to deserve Kurt.

After a perfect, silent moment, Blaine spoke. "You are…amazing," he breathed.

And then he swept him into his arms. Holding him tightly, Blaine buried his face in Kurt's shoulder, drinking in his sweet, clean smell and blinking hard. He felt Kurt's balletic arms fold around him, and he was home.

"That went better than expected!" the countertenor said after a while, sounding so relieved as he held Blaine.

"Yes," The guitarist wasn't capable of too many words at the moment. His mind buzzed with the wonderful event that had just happened, what only days ago he would have thought impossible. Tears welled again behind his eyes-oh my Barbra, he was worse than Kurt today. But his head was so full, some of it had to spill out.

"Come on, Amanda Holden," Kurt pulled back slightly, beaming. "Let's get you some coffee,"

Ten minutes later, Blaine and Kurt were curled up on the couch, leant against the soft cushions and each other. Blaine noticed his hands were shaking very slightly as he sipped the strong coffee. He guessed it just seemed too good to be true.

"Alright?" the countertenor asked him gently.

"Yeah," he said, meaning it, as he put down the still-warm mug and took Kurt's hand instead. It was so soft, as only carefully moisturising religiously could achieve. Blaine studied it, holding it in both of his larger hands, so pale against his own lightly-tanned skin. Carefully, he traced the visible blue veins. It was strange thinking that this perfect angel in his arms was flesh and blood too. He could just about feel the pressure point where Kurt's heart beat, the steady pulse pressing gently against the surface. Raising it slightly, he kissed it. His heart fluttered, a butterfly. And Kurt was always the wings.

"Just thinking about everything that's happened…I lost my parents…I lost my grandma…I moved in with you…now I have my parents back. And you're with me,"

"Of course," Kurt's voice was a breeze, light and breathy.

"All those nights, when I couldn't stop crying…and you were there, always. You stayed up until I could finally sleep, you held me, you dried the tears-"

"Oh, Blaine, it's what anyone would have-"

"But I only had you. You were the reason I kept going…" Blaine kissed him again. He suddenly smiled. "Talk about my knight in shining armour!"

Kurt looked surprised. "I've never been called that before!"

"You are," The guitarist leaned his head into the delicate curve of Kurt's neck. "Totally my white knight,"

For a while, neither said anything. They didn't need to. The last dregs of sunlight seeped into the apartment as the day drew to a close. Twilight. It's a shame that word now is simply associated with a sparkly vampire, when it is one of the most beautiful times of day. When, just for a while, you can see the moon and the suns rays meeting in the sky, embracing gently and turning the endless horizons pink, orange, yellow, purple, even deep red. And soon, stars would appear like lanterns, nightlights, making the darkening sky look magical.

Admittedly, the city of Lima was not the most romantic setting, but if you looked above the dingy grey buildings towards the celestial sphere beyond, it was a wash of colour, only a little grey from city smog. But some open pockets of no cloud, it was just a canvas of colour, blended and painted like a romantic masterpiece. And anyway, Blaine was looking through the window at it with the most amazing person in the world. Against his arm, which was wrapped around Kurt's back, he could feel the shoulder blades pressing against the lily-white skin beneath the designer sweater. He'd read in a book once that this was where your wings were when you were an angel, and where they'd be again one day…

"Hang on!"

Suddenly, Blaine sprang to his feet-and scooped Kurt up, right off the sofa, into a bridal carry. The countertenor squeaked in alarm, beginning to struggle.

"What are you _doing_?"

Holding tightly to prevent escape, Blaine carried him out of the room, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Blaine! I will call my Death Eaters!" Kurt squealed, still trying to break free.

"You don't have any Death Eaters," Blaine pointed out, opening the door of the apartment and stepping outside into the hall.

"No, but I'll call Rachel!"

"Arrgghh!" Blaine pretended to panic, still holding onto him tightly. "What a terrifying prospect!"

"So why did you feel the need to manoeuvre me in this fashion into the corridor?" The countertenor was looking around to check if anyone was watching.

The guitarist grinned. "I just thought. I never carried you over the threshold of our new apartment,"

Kurt looked taken aback, his eyes even wider-then he beamed.

"You crazy, romantic idiot,"

"Well, if we're going to do this, we might as well do it right!" the guitarist shrugged.

"Admittedly, I was a little disappointed you didn't. I was going to carry you, but Finn was here ages, and I was too tired,"

"Yeah, it would have been awkward with Finn," Blaine grinned. "Well, you shall no longer be disappointed!"

Pretending to be mortified, when Blaine could clearly see he was loving it, Kurt pressed the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. "Let's get this over with,"

Running into the apartment like lunatics, the two guys laughed so hard the whole of Ohio could probably hear them. It was an expression of purest joy and happiness, with the world and each other.

Blaine had come through all this-and he'd come through with a smile on his face, a song in his heart and Kurt's hand in his.

**Awwhh I'm sad this next chapter will be second to last! :'( I'll update soon!**

**SPOILER: Cheerleading with Miss Sylvester, the return of a certain someone beginning with a "K",,,and the Andersons and Hummel-Hudsens meet :')**

**Keep reading-just a little more!-and PLEASE review! Thank you so much! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxx**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hey everyone! **

**Awwhh I love all of your reviews so much! They really mean the world :D**

**A lot of people seem sad this is ending, an I want to put off stopping writing it as long as I can…so I've done a Harry Potter and split this chapter in two :P Hope that's cool with everyone :')**

**So there's still a little more to come :')**

**Enjoy! :')**

There was a huge collective shout of despair from the crowd as the McKinley football team messed up once again, messing up an easy touch-down. Kurt doubted the other side were even that good; McKinley just sucked. Bad. Pitying his step-brother as he was shouted at by Couch Beiste to the side, he was glad he wasn't out there on the field. He could see Puck shouting an insult at a member the blue-uniformed other team, who made an obscene gesture back. Oh, the delights of high school football.

"Wow," Kurt whispered to Brittany who was stood next to him on the sideline, her long hair tied back in a pony-tail. "Loyal as I am to McKinley, kind of wish I was cheering for the other side right now!"

"I thought we were?" the blonde girl asked, bemused. Kurt face-planted into his pom-poms.

"Hey!" Miss Sylvester did not need a megaphone. As soon as her piercing voice hit them, the entire cheerleading squad stood up a little straighter, like a military drill. "Why don't you quit standing there like a bunch of useless flagpoles and do what you're here to do? And stand upright, or I'll shove bamboo canes up your behinds! And don't think I'm joking!"

Instantly, the whole squad was on the game. Much as Kurt told himself Miss Sylvester didn't scare him, if there was a monster under his bed-well, couch at the moment-it would be her. The team launched into their fairly basic routine at the side of the pitch, with huge showy smiles on their already-aching faces. Miss Sylvester always liked to keep it simple to start with-to really wow at the half-time display, which was in ten minutes. But, judging by McKinley's poor game, they would be a _long _ten minutes.

Looking quickly across the poker-straight line of red-clothed cheerleaders, Kurt glanced as his boyfriend, in an identical uniform to his own. He was stood right at the other end, next to some anorexic-looking brunette. They were the only two guys on the squad, but that had never been a problem for them. Blaine caught his eye-and winked briefly before looking back straight ahead and concentrating. Kurt loved how Blaine's eyes went slightly squinty when he concentrated…

"Porcelain! Look alive! I was not kidding about the bamboo!"

Ten humiliating minutes later, it was half-time. The McKinley team left the pitch, dragging their boots and looking murderous-particularly Puck. Noah may be a big softie when it came to his daughter-but when angry, he turned into a vicious bulldog.

"Ladies!" Sue ordered. Kurt loved how he and Blaine were included in being addressed this way. "Positions! And I don't want to see one wobble in that pyramid, okay? Go!"

The squad, cheery, optimistic smiles plastered on, bounced onto the centre of the field and began to take up their places for the many-hours-rehearsed routine. Kurt knelt on the floor, in the middle at the front, in front of Mercedes. He carefully made sure his mic-pack was switched on, and saw Mercedes going the same. Looking at the bright lights and the crowd watching, Kurt recalled why he fell in love with performing. Right. The crowd hushed a little as the music started up.

The intro pulsed almost-ear-splittingly out of the speakers, and the Cheerios launched into their routine. Kurt had to admire Miss Sylvester's choice of song here. Gestures, high-kicks, cart-wheels, flips…everyone was giving one-hundred per cent, whilst making it look effortless. Taking a deep breath, Kurt's face lit up with a huge smile, as he shimmied forward and began to sing:

"_Baby look at me_

_And tell me what you see _

_You ain't seen the best of me yet _

_Give me time I'll make you forget the rest!" _

Walking strongly forward as the Cheerios danced professionally behind him, Kurt posed with one hand on his hip, making appropriate gestures and doing little bits of choreography with the rest.

"_I got more in me _

_And you can set it free _

_I can catch the moon in my hands _

_Don't you know who I am?"_

Like the true diva she was, Mercedes stepped forth with so much attitude, and took over, belting out the chorus like Aretha Franklin.

"_Remember my name _

_Fame!_

_I'm gonna live forever _

_I'm gonna learn how to fly _

_High! _

_I feel it coming together _

_People will see me and cry _

_Fame! _

_I'm gonna make it to heaven _

_Light up the sky like a flame _

_Fame! _

_I'm gonna live forever _

_Baby remember my name!"_

Singing the backing, the rest of the Cheerios busted some epic moves, with so much energy and perfection.

"_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember"_

Next, Blaine took centre stage, confident and sure, with that sexy smile and slick of the hair. He began to sing the second verse-but his mic hadn't turned on! He worked through it though, singing out as loud as he could and dancing like nothing had happened.

"_Baby hold me tight _

_Cause you can make it right-" _Suddenly, the sound box got the mic to work, and Blaine's beautiful voice blasted out, filling the football ground. After a few unpleasant squeaks, it was back to normal, and Blaine carried on with his amazing performance.

"_You can shoot me straight to the top _

_Give me love and take all I've got to give _

_Baby I'll be tough _

_Too much is not enough _

_I'll grab your heart til it breaks _

_Ooo I got what it takes!" _

With some spectacular improvising on his last note, Kurt and Mercedes joined, singing in a breath-taking three part harmony. The song progressed, with ever more impressive moves from the Cheerios, and the stunning vocals.

"_Fame! _

_I'm gonna live forever _

_I'm gonna learn how to fly _

_High! _

_I feel it coming together _

_People will see me and cry _

_Fame!_

_I'm gonna make it to heaven _

_Light up the sky like a flame _

_Fame! _

_I'm gonna live forever _

_Baby remember my name!" _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember _

_Remember my name _

_Fame!_

_I'm gonna live forever _

_I'm gonna learn how to fly _

_High!_

_I feel it coming together _

_People will see me and cry _

_Fame! _

_I'm gonna make it to heaven _

_Light up the sky like a flame _

_Fame!_

_I'm gonna live forever _

_Baby remember my name _

_Fame! _

_I'm gonna live forever _

_I'm gonna learn how to fly _

_High! _

_I feel it coming together _

_People will see me and cry _

_Fame!"_

Finally, the squad behind them formed an extreme pyramid, with not one wobble. Blaine finished with some crazy back-flips across the front, while Mercedes and Kurt stuck a pose, Mercedes Beyonce-esque, Kurt a mix of Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly, and the music struck out with one final blast.

There was a second of silence.

Then, the stadium erupted into huge cheers and rapturous applause. Amaziongly-it had been perfect. Kurt, Blaine and Mercedes went to the front to take their separate bow, and their audience went crazy, on their feet. Kurt felt a flush of purest joy-this was what he was born to do.

Jogging off onto the sidelines again so the other, now rather defeated-looking squad could do their routine, everyone was high-fiving and congratulating each other. But Miss Sylvester was no where to be seen.

"Where is our beloved coach?" Blaine commented, pretending to search high and low.

"Over there," Mercedes jerked her head toward the sound box, where the Miss Sylvester was clearly yelling at the two nerdish-looking juniors, who's faces were visions of justifiable terror.

"Someone's not happy about the mic failure!" Blaine touched his mic-pack sheepishly.

"I think you did outstandingly," Kurt gave his boyfriend a hug, to many "awh"s from the surrounding girls.

"You too, baby. I'm so proud of you," Blaine held on when Kurt tried to break it, not wanting to let go.

"Hey, look, there's my dad!" Kurt suddenly gestured into the stands, where Burt and Carole sat side by side, politely watching the other display. "Dad!" Kurt jumped around, waving like a first-grader in the nativity until he caught his attention. He did this deliberately now, knowing how much it embarrassed him. "Dad!"

When he could ignore it no longer, Burt gave a stiff half-wave, shaking his head. Carole was laughing at him, as Kurt began showing off, doing high-kicks and the like. "Hi, Dad!"

Burt was looking gradually more humiliated, pulling his cap down over his face. Laughing, Kurt decided to pack it in.

"_It's my Dadddddyyyyyyyy!_"Blaine began to do a Draco-esque duck-like dance in circles, taking the mickey. Kurt sighed fondly-_everything_ was a Harry Potter reference. All the Cheerios were killing themselves laughing at him-apart from Brittany, who looked confused.

"_Daddy, Daddy! You came to love me!" _Blaine's voice was in extreme falsetto.

"Calm down, Lauren Lopez," Kurt grinned, grabbing his boyfriend to stop further "choreography". Then-he stopped.

"Hey, what's up, baby?" Blaine looked concernedly at his boyfriend, who seemed to have turned to stone.

Eventually, Blaine followed his gaze-and did a double-take.

Sat beside one another on the bleachers, stiff as boards, looking utterly uncomfortable and out of place, were Mr and Mrs Anderson.

Now, Kurt wasn't terrified, like he would have been this time last week. But still quite uneasy. It was another thing to turn up to Blaine's cheerleading display.

Mrs Anderson had noticed by now Kurt and Blaine had seen them, and tugged at her husband's sleeve. They were both considerably smarter dressed than the rest of the crowd, and looked like fish out of water. The countertenor almost felt sorry for them.

"We'd better go…" Blaine hesitated. "say hello, I guess,"

After a moment's pause, Kurt nervously followed his boyfriend, jets of wrong-footedness shooting unpleasantly through him. They climbed up the bleachers until eventually reaching them.

"Urm-hey, Mom, Dad," Blaine awkwardly greeted them. After a second-they both looked up.

"Good evening, darling," Mrs Anderson stood up and gave him the briefest, quickest hug ever, like she had the time they'd gone for coffee. "And Kurt too," She bestowed upon the countertenor an even briefer embrace. He was a bit taken-aback-but pleased. It was almost like she nearly _liked _him now-even if she couldn't say "boyfriend".

Mr Anderson did not stand or say a word-but nodded stiffly by way of saying hello.

"Evening," Kurt smiled brightly and politely, immediately acting a little younger. He knew Mrs Anderson liked it when he did-women always liked to baby him. "How are you?"

"Oh, just fine, thank you. Well done both of you-that was a very good display. You've got a very pretty voice, Kurt,"

"Thank you," Kurt smiled modestly, looking down a little, even though she sounded a little patronising.

"Urm…thank you for coming, but…was there any reason why you did?" Blaine asked anxiously. It obviously wasn't just going to be to see Blaine cheerleading.

"Well…actually we were rather hoping to run into Kurt's parents-I mean, your father and step-mother," she said hastily, determined to be correct at all times.

"Oh!" Kurt squeaked in surprise, glancing over at Burt and Carole. "Well, they're just over here! Want to come meet them?"

Mrs Anderson hesitated for a second-then nodded. "Come on, Edward,"

The Andersons followed Kurt and Blaine through the crowd across to where Burt and Carole sat in conversation. "Dad?"

"Oh, hey Kurt, Blaine," Burt turned to them, not seeing their companions. "Great dancing,"

"Thank you," Kurt nodded. "Urm..." He looked at Blaine. It only seemed right he introduced them.

"Mr Hummel...I'd like you to meet my parents,"

Head shooting up, Burt looked confused. He looked behind Blaine and Kurt to where Mr and Mrs Anderson were awkwardly stood. Kurt could see his brain whirring with thoughts on what he knew them to have done to Blaine-he was now pretty protective over Blaine too. Hurriedly, Kurt gave his father a warning look, praying he wouldn't say anything.

"Hello," said Mrs Anderson, after a while, looking the mechanic up and down and evidently trying to make a judgement. "You must be Kurt's father," She put out a hand.

"Yes," Burt forced a polite smile and shook the small, manicured hand.

"And Kurt's step-mother?" Mrs Anderson quickly moved onto Carole, who had a similar look to Burt, glancing worriedly at Blaine.

"Carole Hudsen-Hummel," The two women shook hands.

"Hudsen? So is that your boy?" Mrs Anderson pointed at the quarterback, name visible on the back of his football shirt, guzzling chocolate milkshake unattractively on the sidelines. Kurt rolled his eyes-trust Finn to pick this moment to look like a Neanderthal.

"Yes, that's my Finn," Carole said, with a hint of defiance.

Mr Anderson had not made a move, hanging back a little and watching Kurt's parents closely, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Oh, what a shame about that touch-down! He was _so_ close," Mrs Anderson's lipsticky smile looked genuine-but her hazel eyes very patronising, almost looking down on them. Carole was a highly perceptive woman-she sussed Mrs Anderson right away, but stayed polite.

"Indeed," she replied, pinning the smile on.

"And this is my husband, Edward," Blaine's mother took her husband's arm and encouraged him forward. Like a robot, Mr Anderson shook Burt and Carole's hands mechanically and wordlessly. They both looked a bit put-out.

"Ah…well, it was nice to meet you," Burt nodded awkwardly. "Your son's a great guy,"

Beside Kurt, Blaine glowed.

"Yes, well…" Mrs Anderson coughed awkwardly. "Your Kurt seems very sweet. It's nice they're…well…you obviously know what it's like to have a son who's…well, it can't have been easy!" She laughed, showing too many perfect white teeth.

"Actually, it's fine with me," Burt's tone was slightly challenging, his eyes hardening. The protective father was kicking in stronger.

"Well, it was nice you all met!" Blaine cut in hurriedly, seeing this could only get worse. "Mom, Dad, shouldn't you be getting back to your seats?"

Five minutes later, Kurt and Blaine were back on the sidelines, their parents safely separated.

"That could have gone so much better…" Kurt was disappointed. But Blaine didn't look too worried.

"Sorry, you know what Mom and Dad are like…they'll come round. Dad just doesn't like new people, and Mom…well, she's just Mom," he shrugged.

"Your father actually seems so shy…" Kurt mused. "He's not so scary once you see through the façade…"

"Maybe…" Blaine suddenly grinned. "Hey, isn't it traditional that in-laws don't get on!"

"_In-laws_?" Kurt's eyes widened.

Blaine looked embarrassed. "Well-you know what I mean," He tried to brush it off. Kurt didn't pick up the subject-but his heart had just gone into overdrive.

**Hope you enjoyed! Part II soon!**

**SPOILER: Well, wait and see :')**

**Please review! :D**

**Thank you so much! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxx**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hey everyone :') This is so bittersweet-the very last official chapter! :'( **

**BUT-stay tuned-I've a surprise for you! I'll post again soon! **

**SPOLIER: Chapter 34-Epilogue xD**

**I'll thank everyone properly then, but for now THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! :D I would give each of you a huge hug if I could! **

**Please stay with me just a little longer, and keep reviewing! Each review completely makes my day :')**

**Thank you! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxx**

And so, in short, McKinley suffered one of their worst defeats ever. The other side cut through them easily, and left victorious, cheering and whooping and making obscene gestures at the ruffled McKinley team. It was so humiliating, Coach Beiste couldn't even look at the team. "Just…just go," she'd ordered, putting a hand up and turning away. The guys sloped off toward the locker room, sulking or moaning.

"It's because they didn't do _Single Ladies_," Kurt snickered.

"Wow…talk about crushed," Blaine sat down beside his boyfriend on the side of the field, as the bleachers began to slowly empty.

"Yep," Kurt agreed, absent-mindedly twisting a lock of his hair around a finger. He caught Blaine watching him. "What?"

Blaine smiled. "You're perfect,"

Feeling his cheeks blush a little, a smile played around his lips, though he tried hard to hide it modestly. He began to humbly protest-

"No disagreeing," Blaine gently stopped his mouth with the briefest kiss, like a butterfly. "You're beautiful,"

Kurt felt his blush deepen, leaning into his boyfriend. "_You_ are,"

However, something played on his mind, bothering him. "Blaine…?"

"Yes, darling?" The guitarist made a listening face. But that just made the countertenor more nervous.

"It's…it's just…"

"Spit it out," Blaine grinned, tapping the end of his nose gently.

"Okay, I'm going to be frank," Kurt took a deep breath. "We've been together for ages, and what we have is showing no sign of ending. You tell me you love me at least fifty times a day, you say I'm beautiful the whole time, you asked me to move in with you, we've been sleeping in the same bed for ages-but you've never made any attempt to _do_ anything?" It all came out in a rush, and Kurt felt his blush burn even more.

Blaine looked blank. "What do you mean, _do_ anything?"

"_You _know…stuff,"

Then-it clicked in the guitarist's head. He looked at Kurt, surprised and taken aback. "I thought that was what we wanted?"

"It _is_," Kurt insisted. "But…" He had to ask. Taking a deep breath, in his smallest voice, he asked timidly, dreading the answer: "Do you not find me sexually attractive at all?"

Blaine's eyes widened. "What?"

The countertenor could almost feel frustrated tears behind his eyes. "I'm too much of a baby penguin, aren't I?"

"No, no!" Blaine took his hands, looking shocked and a little hurt. "Kurt, how could you even think that I don't-?"

"But-you never-"

"I respect you! You have _no_ idea how hard it is, but I don't want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable!" Blaine gently stroked Kurt's very pink cheek. "That's the last thing I want to do. But believe me, it's difficult,"

Kurt couldn't believe him. He was probably just lying kindly, to save him getting hurt. "Why is it difficult?"

"_You_ make it difficult!" Blaine looked disbelieving. "Baby, you are _exorbitantly, unbelievably _sexually attractive,"

Eyes widening, Kurt could have sworn his heart quickened. "Really?" he tried.

"Yes! You've no idea how hard it is to control myself!"

Looking at his boyfriend carefully, he searched for a trace of lie. Blaine was genuine. A huge rush of relief cascaded through the countertenor. He'd had no idea how much it had been bothering him until it no longer did. Finally-he felt re-assured. "Oh…"

"Kurt, look, of course I want to…you know. But I wasn't sure you did, and there was no way I was risking your trust," He squeezed his hands. "You're worth more than that,"

Pausing, Kurt hesitated. But he knew it was now or never.

"I…I want-"

But suddenly, Blaine was looking away.

His soft, gentle expression-was gone. Instead, it was solid, angry, filled with dislike. The hands limped around Kurt's as he started over at whatever it was.

Following his gaze-Kurt's eyes came to rest on a tall, stocky teen in a baseball cap and jeans, leant against the bleachers, too far away to hear, but watching them. With an unpleasant lunge in his stomach, Kurt realised who it was.

"Karofsky," Blaine's voice could not have been any more different than the re-assuring, affectionate tone he'd just been using with Kurt. The whisper was quiet-but it hit like a stone.

"Blaine. No," Kurt said firmly, praying Blaine wouldn't start something.

"What is he doing here? He doesn't even go to this school any more!" he thundered, looking furious.

"Blaine-" The countertenor kept his tone low and calming, both hands on his boyfriend's shoulders, which had gone stiff.

"You _know_ he has a crush on you!"

Kurt's eyes widened, his stomach dropping. "What?"

"Oh, come on, it's obvious. And I know for sure," The guitarist's fists had clenched.

"Well…okay…but it's harmless, right?" Kurt was almost a little flattered-but Blaine was seething.

"Not when it's him,"

Trying very hard to keep Blaine sitting down, Kurt carried on talking. "Why do you think he's here?" he asked desperately.

"Isn't it obvious? You, plus cheerleading uniform," He was getting madder by the second.

"Oh," Kurt bit his lip.

"He's coming over," Blaine muttered darkly. Sure enough, the ex-bully was moving sluggishly toward them, past the crowds still leaving the bleachers.

"Blaine, please, don't start anything!" Kurt begged.

"I won't if he doesn't,"

Kurt could have sworn Blaine moved a little closer, protectively, toward him.

Finally, Karofsky reached them, looking almost sheepish, like he was regretting his decision to come over. Kurt noticed his large hands were clamped nervously. He was looking at the two guys as if _they _were the scary ones. Kurt felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Hi," Karofsky said after a while.

"Hi…David," Kurt did his best to smile politely. His angry boyfriend made no move. For a second-he looked just like his father.

"How are you doing?" the countertenor persisted none the less.

"Urm…good…" But Karofsky wasn't focusing on Kurt. He was looking at the livid guitarist. "Look…uh-Blaine…"

Head rising, Blaine's usually calm, golden eyes were full of contempt. "What?"

"I…uh…I'm sorry about…you know. The stuff that happened,"

Kurt was confused. "What happened?" But Blaine put a hand on his arm to silence him. He was looking amazed, but still enraged.

"You have the audacity to come here and-?" he accused.

"Look, I know, and I'm truly sorry," This was the most sincere Karofsky had ever looked. "I, uh…heard about your grandma, and your parents kicking you out, and…I'm sorry for not making it any easier for you, man,"

Slowly, Blaine took in the words. After a moment, his face became just a fraction calmer. Like he'd softened a little. Kurt waited anxiously.

"Right," the guitarist breathed. He looked back up at Karofsky. "Okay," Blaine, almost reluctantly, held up a hand, which David shook willingly, relieved. Kurt smiled a mile wide, admiring his boyfriend for this. He was almost reminded of what had happened between he and Mr Anderson in the apartment, their gloriously awkward handshake.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing.

"Okay," David repeated, coughing awkwardly. "Well…" He looked at Kurt-and there was the slightest hint of longing in his eyes. Kurt tensed up-but the jock only shrugged. "You two are lucky to have each other," he murmured. Kurt felt warm inside.

"So…how are you finding…stuff?" Blaine asked the jock, far more sensitively now.

"…Easier," he admitted. "I guess I'm…getting used to the idea now…"

"Good," Kurt smiled. "It can only get better from here, trust me,"

"I hope so," Karofsky muttered.

"Remember, if you ever need to talk about anything, you can call me anytime," the countertenor offered. David looked delighted.

"Thank you,"

"Right," Blaine didn't look like he was that comfortable with that last offer of help, but let it go. "Thank you for apologising, K-David,"

"Yeah…" The jock coughed again. "Well…I'll just be going then," He stumbled off into the throng of people hanging around the pitch. "Oh," Turning back, he half-smiled. "There's kind of…this other guy now. Who…you know, I sort of like…"

Kurt grinned. "Glad to hear it,"

They watched as the ex-bully ambled off.

"Well…all's well, that ends well, I suppose," Blaine had relaxed now. He put an arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"Hey, you feel cold!" He felt the guitarist's bare arm.

"I'm fine," Blaine tried-but Kurt wouldn't hear of it.

"Here you go," He draped his jacket over Blaine's shoulders. "Better?"

"How chivalrous of you," Blaine smiled. "Thank you,"

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the world. Gradually, the crowd was thinning as people began to go home.

"Blaine…" Kurt plucked up the courage to start again. "About what we were saying earlier-"

With a quick kiss, Blaine stopped his mouth. "Only when you're sure you're ready,"

Sighing a little, Kurt looked down-would he not understand? Then, looking him directly in those heavenly pools of molten gold that were Blaine's eyes, Kurt told him: "I am,"

A little surprised, Blaine didn't look convinced. "Are you sure?"

"I love you," Kurt took his hands again. "I love you, and I want to do this-because, with you, how could the first time be anything but absolutely perfect?"

For a second, Blaine said nothing. Then-having not been able to find the words-he simply pulled him into a hug. Leaning into his chest, Kurt closed his eyes, capturing this moment, as he did every moment in Blaine's arms, and treasuring it in his heart, keeping it safe forever.

When the embrace finally broke, Kurt smiled at his boyfriend, who smiled back adoringly. "Tonight?" he mouthed, hopefully.

"Awwhh, look at them!"

Mercedes voice suddenly broke into the bubble they'd created, which had sealed them off from the world. With a slight jolt, they were brought back to reality. But they didn't mind. Anyway, as far as Kurt was concerned, all reality had gone out of the window the moment he'd met Blaine.

"You guys are just too adorable!" the diva was saying. "So when are you getting engaged, then?" she joked.

"Oh…well…"

Both guys had blushed a little, embarrassed-but Mercedes didn't notice. Kurt avoided the situation by aiming a swift kick at his friend's leg.

"Owch!" she complained-but still smirked, like she knew something they didn't. "Do what you want-but I have a feeling," Laughing, she walked off toward Brittany and Santana.

"Wow!" Blaine slicked his fantastic hair down. "Quite an eventful while here!"

"Indeed," Kurt agreed, leaning his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Look, baby, I'm sorry if I made you feel like-"

"It's okay!" Kurt insisted.

Blaine smiled. "But as long as you're comfortable, I can be too," He laughed a little. "Well, I guess I must have convinced your father I'm not a sex-crazed maniac, then!"

"Glad to hear it," came Burt's approaching voice. Heads snapping up, they saw Kurt's father headed toward them, with Carole. Luckily, he just looked a little amused. "Very reassuring,"

"Hey, Daddy," Kurt beamed at him. "Carole," Blaine nodded warmly in greeting too.

"Well, at least I didn't put a bet on the game, huh?" the mechanic said, looking over to where Coach Beiste was still seething at the sidelines.

"Come home for dinner?" Carole's offer was really more of a statement, so they were forced to comply.

Standing up to follow, Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine's. And so, not caring who stared or whispered, the countertenor and the guitarist left the pitch together, with perfectly content smiles. Heart floating on air, looking up at the darkening sky, Kurt made a wish. It was a little sad, a boy of seventeen still blindly wishing on the stars, but he did nonetheless.

In fact, his wish was for Blaine. He wished, no matter what, Blaine would always be happy. Because if he was happy, Kurt could not find fault in the world. He wished that, no matter what life threw at them, he and Blaine would take it together. He knew, if he lived a hundred years, he would never stop loving Blaine. And as long as Blaine loved him too, he would never be lonely, or unhappy. With Blaine, he could fly. He would always have someone to share his life with. And that was all he needed. Just Blaine.

And, most of all-he wished the hand that held Blaine's would remain there, where it belonged. For good.

* * *

><p>Much later, Blaine blew out the last candles, the room now in semi-darkness. The last curls of smoke rose up from the burned-out wicks, looking almost blue. The smell of just-extinguished candles was one of the best in the world.<p>

When Blaine had imagined this moment, he'd pictured taking Kurt to a hotel or something, somewhere really romantic. He'd certainly not imagined the floor of his grandmother's old living room. But somehow-it didn't matter.

He'd done his best to make it special. While Kurt had been in the bathroom (despite living with him, Blaine was still none the wiser as to what he did in there) he'd carefully spread cushions on the floor, lit candles, scattered lavender (remembering Kurt's Taylor Lautner fantasy) and rose petals around. With the light low from the candles and the scent of flowers, Blaine had thought it looked good. He still wished he could have given Kurt more, but for some reason, something told him to keep it simple and just lovely. That was the best way. And it was.

He'd nervously waited for his boyfriend, hoping everything would be okay. Of course he was nervous-neither had ever done this before, and although he knew the facts-what was the right thing to do?

But it had been perfect.

After blowing out the final candle, he was reminded of the first duet they'd sang as a couple-ironically a break-up song-he turned and looked down at the sleeping countertenor, curled up amongst the soft cushions and blankets, his angelic face absolutely peaceful and lovely. By candle-light, Blaine thought he'd never looked more beautiful. He wore just a plain tank top and looser pants than Blaine had ever seen him wear, still designer of course, but much toned-down. Without the layers hiding him, it was like Blaine was seeing the real, natural Kurt for the first time. He'd smiled shyly-and all Blaine's doubts were forgotten. For hours, they'd simply lain in each other's arms, sometimes talking softly, mostly just silence, just being close, together.

And now, Blaine lay down beside him, folding his arms gently around his sleeping boyfriend. Blaine felt somehow different-but in a good way. There was no guilt, nor regret. This felt right. Gently, he pulled the blanket a little farther over Kurt, softly stroking his hair.

Placing the gentlest kiss on his pale, flawless forehead, Blaine considered everything that had happened lately. Even the awful things, like Grandma Lucy's death, being kicked out-Kurt had made them all a little easier to get through. He'd tenderly helped heal the wounds, sewn him back together, picked up the pieces and carefully re-built him. Blaine had fallen apart, but Kurt had never flinched away, taking every strike and blow with him, easing the burden of pain. Blaine would never thank him enough for that. Kurt was the strongest, most amazing guy he'd ever been blessed enough to have in his life, and Blaine never wanted to loose him. Ever.

Softly, Blaine placed a hand over Kurt's pale chest, moving it until he found the skipping, light beat of the heart that Kurt had told him was his before he'd fallen asleep. And Blaine's had always been Kurt's. If there was such a thing as Fate, a Divine Plan for everyone-Blaine knew he had been created for him. They were meant to be together.

Gently, he kissed the still, perfect lips, and one more time whispered "I love you,"

And, finally, he fell asleep, wishing never to wake up from this dream with his Kurt Hummel.


	34. Epilogue Part One

**Dear All:**

**This is the longest time a fan fiction has taken to end ever! Guess what, guys? I've done yet another Harry Potter, because I felt bad for not posting for you guys, and the Epilogue is now a two-parter! :D I hope you don't mind! Gah, I'd feel bad for making you wait any longer…**

**Also, I'd just like to take this opportunity to say a few words about something. The first of December (tomorrow for us Brits!) is not just the first day of Advent, but it's also World AIDS day. Please buy red ribbons to show your support for this worthy issue :') Sorry to bug, but if you do one amazing thing for the end of 2011, this isn't a bad one to do. Thank you! :')**

**Here it is then! More soon. Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews-you guys are so nice, and they make me so happy! Please keep reviewing! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxx**

_Twelve years later…_

"_It should be Nineteen Years Later!" _

_Keep dreaming, Blaine…_

Blaine reversed through the front door, pushing it with his back owing to the fact that his hands were full to the maximum with shopping bags. God, New York on the 23rd of December was quite something else. It was like the entire population of the world gathered there for the Christmas period, every sidewalk crammed to bursting with tourists and Christmas shoppers, all weighed down with similar amounts of baggage to Blaine. Getting into the front hall, Blaine dumped the multitude of shopping bags down, rubbing his aching hands together. But, seeing the mini Christmas tree, decorated extravagantly (not as much as the one in the living room), stood up on the hall table, he smiled. He just loved Christmas.

He checked his watch-everyone would be here in just under an hour. Blaine admitted-he was a little nervous. A _lot _nervous.

Picking up the first lot of bags, he lugged them through to the huge kitchen of the massive penthouse apartment, so different from Grandma Lucy's little flat-but Blaine loved it just as much-if not more. For many reasons.

Blaine knew a little someone who _loved _interior design, and the infinite knowledge combined with a determination to get exactly what he wanted, meant they'd ended up with an apartment that looked right out of a magazine. But somehow, it was still homey. Blaine guessed that was just his Kurt's genius. The whole place looked amazing, despite the wear and tear it had put up with over the years. With Kurt around, the cleaning lady they hired was barely necessary.

Life was so wonderful, Blaine could honestly still not believe it.

He still got jitters when he thought of the day he'd got that phone call, a few weeks before he was due to graduate high school-from a big New York producer. And the next thing he knew-_A Very Potter Musical_, his composition, a bit of fun-was on Broadway.

And still running. Blaine could not believe it. A few years later, the _Sequel_ had followed, and was another smash-hit. And, just like that, Blaine had become one of the most sought-after composers in the country. Moving right to New York, without ever going to college, he'd originated the role of Harry for almost two whole years-still one of the most amazing times of his life. Again, he'd played Harry for a year in the _Sequel-_but nowadays he liked to concentrate on just music, and was a singer/guitarist in his own right. Now, with many big music awards already under his belt, all his career dreams had come true.

Leave the Broadway performing to Kurt.

He'd gotten into NYADA-Blaine honestly thought he'd never heard anyone scream so loud in his life. He'd been so proud of his boyfriend, it was unreal. So they'd moved to New York together as soon as they'd graduated-and began to work harder than they ever had in their lives, Kurt at college, Blaine in the AVPs. And it was glorious.

After graduating from NYADA, Kurt had started off in a few touring shows, beginning as understudies and slowly working his way up-and a few years later, he was offered work on Broadway. He was now one of the most in-demand actors in New York-living the dream. And Blaine could not be prouder of him.

One of the things Blaine loved most in life now was seeing Kurt's face every day as he got in from work-the sheer joy of doing musical theatre, his true passion, for a living.

Now, Blaine was working with top artists, a song of his he'd written for a new act was sweeping the Top Forty that minute, and Kurt was starring as Fiyero in Wicked- his absolute dream come true. They, as Glinda would say "couldn't be happier". Life was, as the Wizard would say: "Wonderful".

Blaine was so thankful for everything-but nothing he'd achieved in the music world could possibly compare to the day he'd married Kurt.

"Blaine? Are you back?" The sweet, musical, high voice came from far into the gigantic apartment.

"Indeed I am," Blaine called back to his husband.

"Need a hand?"

"No, you're okay, babe-" But the footsteps were coming anyway, heading toward him. Blaine smiled, shaking his head. He picked up the next lot of shopping bags and carried them through to the kitchen. All the cooking for today had already been done, to Kurt's careful schedule, so there was nothing to worry about except what time their guests would be arriving. Well, Blaine wasn't too worried about _most_ of them-

In the eleven years they'd been there, Mr and Mrs Anderson had never visited them in New York. It had always been Blaine going down to see them.

Until today.

Funny how, after eight years of them being married- still neither one would refer to Kurt as Blaine's husband.

Not that they didn't like him, on the contrary-but still, they would not say the word. Well, Blaine had almost given up now. He took the fact that they practically fully accepted him now as the best he was going to get. What did it_ really _matter…

It mattered that they "hadn't been able" to come to their wedding.

Blaine had put on a very brave face.

But now, they were coming up to visit for the first time for Christmas-and that had to be a good thing, right?

It wasn't just them, which was a relief. Burt and Carole were coming up too, and Rachel and Finn. It was going to be an awesome Christmas, with all their family around them, just a quiet one-well, not much chance of that with Rachel around.

"Hi, honey," Kurt swept into the kitchen, right past the bags by the door and straight into Blaine's arms, kissing him. Blaine beamed-he still thought he had the most amazing husband in the world.

"Hey there,"

"Right, everything's done, everything's perfect-and the living room is out of bounds until everyone arrives," Kurt informed him in a business-like manner.

"Okay," Blaine smiled.

"Don't look so happy, Mr Hummel-Anderson. After you've put all this away-you're to tidy the bombsite you refer to as your study,"

"What?" Blaine protested. "I already cleaned it,"

"There is still sheet music everywhere-I think you're forgetting that we have guests coming who have never seen the place before,"

"It's _creative_-and don't remind me," Blaine rubbed his forehead, the other arm still around his husband. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Lily phoned-she got our Christmas present,"

"Oh great!" Blaine grinned again, bringing their now-fifteen-year-old ex-baby-sitting charge to mind. They hadn't seen her in years, but kept in touch. She'd grown up to be a lovely girl, very clever-had her sights set on Harvard.

"Well, I'm glad her life is going so well," Kurt smiled, kissing Blaine again.

"Like ours," Blaine returned another kiss. "With you, and me, and, most

importantly-"

Suddenly, the loud, high-pitched cry of a baby pierced clearly through the halls of the apartment.

"Oh dear," Kurt said sympathetically. "She's not in a great mood today," Ducking out of Blaine's arms, he turned on his heal out of the kitchen toward the sound.

"Daddy!" Another little, but loud voice from the other end of the apartment came, and small feet with quick steps like a sewing machine came running toward the kitchen.

Oh, did he mention?

Blaine's perfect life had been completed by he and Kurt being blessed with two little angels.

"Daddy!" Five-year-old Lucy skipped into the kitchen, her dark brown curls bouncing on her shoulders, the cute little red dress with the gold Christmas star embroidered on her chest pristine, with her snowy white sparkly tights. In her little hand, she clutched a soft toy ginger kitten, named Crookshanks (no prizes for guessing who's idea that was). Her big, round sky-blue with a hint of green eyes were bright with innocence, her big smile beaming with excitement. Breaking into a run, she sprinted straight to Blaine.

"Hey, Princess!" Blaine scooped up his daughter and gave her a cuddle. Her little hands scratched at the back of his neck as she got a good grip. "How are you doing?"

Lucy Glinda Carole Hummel-Anderson was one of the three greatest joys of Blaine's life. In his eyes, she was perfect in every way. A beautiful, adorable little girl, with a laugh like silver bells and a smile like a million stars. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her-he'd move the Earth. Her smile alone meant more to him than a thousand screaming fans. He'd never thought he'd love anyone as much as Kurt-however, the moment Lucy was placed in his arms, this delicate, beautiful, helpless little baby girl, who's survival stopped and ended with him-he was, delightedly, proved wrong.

Being a parent was something Blaine had never really properly considered. But now he was-he couldn't imagine his life any other way. Children were the greatest adventure in the world.

"Did you need anything?" Blaine asked.

"I needed Daddy K. He said he'd do my hair before everyone gets here,"

"What's wrong with your hair? It looks pretty," Blaine gently pulled a lock of her almost-black curls.

"I wanted to wear the hair slides Grandpa Burt and Nana Carole sent me for my birthday," she explained. "To show I love them,"

Blaine smiled-she was so sweet. Surprisingly shy, considering who her parents were. Technically, she should be the most spoiled child ever-everyone showered her with gifts and treats, particularly Kurt's parents-but somehow she remained selfless, always wanting to help people and give. Blaine liked to think they'd brought her up well-but he knew. Her giving nature, always wanting to keep busy, always giving time for anyone who needed help, wanting to take in stray animals and always putting everyone else first-were all Grandma Lucy's traits. Even though the two weren't technically blood related, Grandma Lucy being Blaine's mother's adopted mother-her spirit lived on in Blaine's daughter. By her parents, she was spoiled only in love.

"You'll have to wait a minute, angel-Daddy's with your sister,"

"Okay," Lucy leaned her head on her dad's shoulder, looking out of the window at the grey sky. "Daddy, how much does the sky weigh?"

It was wonderful how she was still young enough to believe her dad knew everything. She was in the midst of a question-asking phrase; which Blaine supposed was better than her scribbling-on-walls stage. However, Blaine didn't really have an answer to this one.

"Urm…"

"More than an elephant?"

"Maybe. Or maybe nothing at all,"

"Less than Eliza?" Lucy looked in the direction of the now-quieter cries, and the soft sound of Kurt singing gently. "She's so light when I hold her,"

"Yes, but you're always very quick to give her back when she starts crying!" Blaine laughed fondly.

Light footsteps came, and a minutes later, the door opened, and Kurt entered, holding carefully in his slender arms a little three-month-old baby girl, the last dregs of crying just leaving her shell-pink lips. Her brunette hair was just wisps on her head still, her big, heart-breaking eyes still baby blue-but there was a ring of hazel around the pupil, that golden colour. She was a beautiful, adorable creature, just like her sister. Again, when she was born, it was proved to Blaine that the heart could grow, and he loved her to the ends of the earth.

Elizabeth "Eliza" (as she'd become known) Heather Johanna Hummel-Anderson was a much louder baby than her quiet sister. Having got off lightly the first time around, Kurt and Blaine were now getting the full waking-up-at-all-hours treatment. She was every bit as special as her sister, in different ways. There was no way you could compare the two. What Eliza would be like when she grew up was still a mystery-but she promised to have a very big personality. Blaine had already predicted she'd be the next Mercedes Jones.

Blaine hadn't realised how much being a parent changed your perspective on the world. Suddenly, there was so much more potential danger, so much more you had to think about, so much responsibility-but he wouldn't miss it for anything.

"Everything okay?" Blaine asked his husband.

"She's fine, aren't you, sweetheart?" he cooed at her, gently kissing her forehead "Just needs changing," Kurt picked up the bag containing the diapers from where it had been left this morning on the kitchen floor.

Blaine was still amazed at how cool Kurt was with all the mess and stickiness babies made. But, as he'd said, it was all in the job description. "Alright, want me to do it?"

"No, I think it's my turn. Lucy, honey, I shall fix your hair as soon as this one is cleaned up, okay?"

"Okay," Lucy agreed happily, climbing down from Blaine and skipping off.

"Blaine. Study. Now," The countertenor jerked his head in the direction of the room. Pretending to sigh and roll his eyes, Blaine slumped out of the door to try and organise the piles and piles of sheet music that lay in haphazard piles all over his work room. His guitars (now multiple) were hung up on the wall, and photos of the girls covered the desk. The music stand on the piano was overflowing with sheet music, his violin lying on top of it, desperately needing tuning. Absent-mindedly picking it up, he plucked at the D string, wondering whether to do that now.

After sorting out the poorly violin, he finally began shuffling the endless sheets of manuscript into the files that had been brought for this purpose. To be honest, it was probably a good thing he was doing this-his mother was bound to poke around everywhere…

That sounded mean, but it was true. It was just her personality.

Blaine was nervous about them coming up to New York for the first time. He didn't really know why-but he was. They hadn't seen Lucy since she was four now, and would be meeting Eliza in the flesh for the first time.

Sighing a little, he shuffled sheet music into manageable stacks, throwing old stuff into the already-over-flowing waste paper bin. He wished his parents were more interested in his life-the day _AVPM_ opened on Broadway, he'd called them: "_Oh, what was it called again, darling?"_ He and Kurt's wedding, the happiest day of his life: "_So sorry we couldn't make it, darling, but work is work! I hope you had a nice day," _The day Lucy was born: _"Could you call me later, darling, I'm busy," _The day Eliza was born: he hadn't even phoned them.

He'd really thought they'd accepted him now. But he guessed his marrying Kurt, for them, was twisting the dagger-no way back. No "phase" or whatever crap they'd used to comfort themselves. He knew, if someone asked now, they'd tell them that their son was gay, all that pride talk-but he guessed they were fine with it-long as they didn't have to see it. So they were distant-both geographically and emotionally.

Blaine loved his life. But he wished his parents were as much a part of it as Kurt's.

For a while, Blaine quietly carried on tidying. He listened to the faint sound of Kurt singing to Eliza down the hall, and Lucy playing in the next room. He smiled. He could hear little sounds Eliza made, and his heart melted.

"Blaine? BLAINE! BLAINE!"

Dropping everything, Blaine sprinted down the hall into the living room. He dashed through the living room door. "Kurt? What's wrong?"

A freshly-changed Eliza lay on her front on the floor, now in adorable pink baby clothes with a little white teddy bear lolling just near her. She looked fine, thank God.

"Kurt?" A little of the urgency had left his voice now, seeing Eliza seemingly unhurt.

The countertenor was knelt beside her, tears just beginning to flow down his porcelain cheeks. "She just rolled over!" he choked out. "All by herself!"

A smile broke over Blaine's face. He lay down on the floor in front of his youngest daughter, so they were face to face. Her shiny, innocent eyes focused on his face, blinking at him.

"Who's a clever girl, huh, angel?" He gave her a kiss on her warm forehead. "So smart!" Gently, he picked her up, and she lolled against him. He'd read babies didn't really tell one person from the other at this stage-but he reckoned Eliza knew who he and Kurt were. She wriggled slightly, her tiny hand gently brushing his cheek. Giving her a cuddle, he sat down on the carpet and put his other arm around his still-weeping, adorably over-sentimental husband. "Are we going to have a repeat of Luce now, sweetheart?" he teased him. "Are you going to cry every time our baby does the slightest thing?"

Kurt wiped his eyes. "I know, but-you know…" He gently stroked Eliza's hair, as she made a little sound like a bird. Over their daughter's head, their eyes met, and Blaine fell in love with him all over again. Even after all this time…

**More soon! Stick with me just a little longer, and PLEASE review! Thank you! xxxxxx**


	35. Epilogue Part Two

**Hello, you wonderful, amazing people :D**

**Guess what? This still isn't the last one!**

**It was meant to be, but I'm so busy, and I feel bad when I don't update, so this epilogue is a three-parter!**

**I'm so sorry it's taking so long to end! :'( I really hope you don't mind!**

**More soon-and it really will end! Please keep reviewing-thank you so much to everyone! :D **

**I do not own Glee, or any of the songs or shows mentioned in this chapter :D**

**Thank you! PhantomVoldyGLeek24601**

The doorbell rang, and Lucy was off like a shot before Kurt had even looked up. She'd been watching out of the window for Burt and Carole's cab for the last half hour. Reaching up, she had to jump a little to pull the latch, then finally pulled open the door. "Nana!"

"Who's this then? Lucy can't possibly have got so tall!" Carole embraced her granddaughter. She was looking tired from the journey, but delighted to see Lucy, who was so excited she was literally jumping up and down. "It's so great to see you, honey!" she beamed, happily fussing over her.

"You too!" Lucy was pulling her by the hand into the flat.

"Hey!" Kurt waved-before being brutally hugged by his step-mother, cutting off his air supply.

"We do not see enough of you guys!" she said, kissing him on the cheek. "And you feel thin,"

Kurt smiled as his step-mother's honesty. "Not really,"

"You do! Lucy, honey, tell your daddy he works too hard," She stroked his cheek affectionately. Lucy giggled, hanging onto her hand. Kurt looked down at her, considering. Had she gotten taller? He couldn't believe she'd be six in a few months. Gently touching her curly hair, he wished she could stay little forever.

"Grandpa!" Lucy ran straight into Burt's waiting arms.

"Hey!" Burt lifted her right up and swung her around, dropping the suitcases in the doorway. Kurt smiled-his father was, as he'd known he would be, a wonderful grandfather. "How are you, then, missie?"

"I'm excited for Christmas Day!" she babbled.

Burt made his face mockingly serious. "Have you been a good girl this year?"

"Urm…I think so!" Lucy looked back to Kurt for confirmation.

"I should say you have been," he smiled. Lucy looked delighted.

"Of course," Burt tickled her playfully, picking her up. "Now, how about you guess which hand my dollar is in?" They started up a daft game, laughing together. Kurt beamed-he loved seeing how great his father was with his daughters.

"Now, where's lovely granddaughter number two?" Carole let Kurt take her jacket.

Right on cue, Blaine entered, little Eliza in his arms. She looked up curiously, her big blue eyes wide.

"Wow! She's grown so much! Look at her,"

Blaine grinned, gently giving her to Carole. "Go to your nana, sweetheart," For a second, Eliza looked unsure-then just before the noisy complaining started, she decided this person could be trusted.

"Awwh! Who's a pretty girl?" Carole just loved spending time with her granddaughters-she was fantastic with kids. "Now, how about you tell me all about yourself, hmm? Long time since I last saw you! How are you doing?" She carried her through to the sitting room, chatting happily to her. Lucy ran after them, starting to tell Carole all about school and her ballet class.

"Hey, guys," Burt asked, getting up from sitting on the floor slowly and going to hug his son-there was no awkwardness at all between them now-then warmly shook Blaine's hand. "How's life?"

"Busy!" Kurt grinned. He wouldn't have it any other way. Blaine was already helping his father-in-law take their cases through to the recently-tided-at-least-five-hundred-times spare room.

"Oh-" Burt lowered his voice. "Christmas presents for the girls in that bag," He pointed to a carrier bag, which looked pretty bulky, proving they'd gone as overboard as last year, and the year before, and, etc. "Luce still likes horses, right?"

"Thank you, Dad," Kurt smiled. "They'll be delighted.

"And there's a little something for you two as well," Burt said, a little more shyly.

"Oh, Dad, you shouldn't have!"

"Well, you know…" Burt shrugged. "It's not much. I hope you haven't got me anything, huh?" he laughed.

Kurt bit his lip.

A while later, when Burt and Carole were successfully moved in, everyone was sat in the living room, bar Blaine, who was sorting out the food for later. Eliza had fully relaxed with Carole, and was on the verge of dropping off to sleep. In her element, Lucy was prancing around, demonstrating what she'd been learning at her ballet class. She definitely took after her dads in that area of things. Although Blaine had never been sent to dance class as a child (you can guess the reason for that) he had a real aptitude for it. Kurt loved that she was into performing-it must be genetic-Blaine kept saying he would teach her piano, or guitar, or violin, or ukulele, or mandolin, or whatever other instruments he had stacked in his now acceptably tidy study. But Kurt didn't really want them to push her too hard too early. Of course they'd encourage her if that's what she wanted to do, but he did not want a Rachel Berry for a daughter.

Speaking of Rachel…

"KURT!" The brunette diva flung her arms around his neck, practically throttling him. "Oh my Barbra! It's so great to see you! How's things? How's _Wicked_? How's Blaine? How are the girls?" She finally paused for breath, letting go. "How's my best gay?"

"Uh!" Blaine came into the hall, pretending to be offended. "What about m-"

But Rachel had already pounced on him, knocking his lungs empty. "I miss you guys so much!"

Rachel had also got into NYADA-the only thing that made the day he'd got his letter even more amazing. However, she'd had rather a tougher road breaking into the industry than he had. She'd spent three years waiting tables and filing in offices just to keep her flat with Finn, who'd come along at the last minute. But she kept determined-it would come. And it did. She was not quite on Broadway yet-but was in an off-Broadway resurrection of _Jekyll and Hyde_ as Emma, so she was delighted. Kurt was sure she'd join him one day. Hell, she could probably power the whole city just with her ambition.

"Hey, little brother!" Finn did a half-hug-backslap with Kurt.

"We're the same age!" Kurt moaned, cursing the height difference-but he was glad to see him. Finn had taken a new branch of Hummel motors to New York, and was doing very nicely. He and Rachel had had rather a complicated relationship-on and off for a few years-until Rachel finally proposed to him on the 29th February. Only Rachel Berry. Kurt was over the moon for them, and couldn't wait for their wedding. He still loved weddings-but none could possibly compare to his own…

"Where are my nieces, then?" Rachel finally let Blaine go and marched through to the living room.

"Uncle Finn!" Lucy bolted off the sofa and ran to Finn, who did not disappoint, picking her up and swooping her around like a rocketship, while she giggled hysterically. Rachel saw Eliza and made a beeline for her.

"Hi, there, sweetie!" Her already huge grin stretched, many perfect straight white teeth showing. Now, you have to remember that Eliza was only three months old, and as she had not seen Rachel for a long while, and had therefore probably forgotten who she is; so what happened next was pretty predictable.

"How are you?" Rachel picked her up-and she immediately started crying.

"Oh dear, it's all gone wrong!" Kurt retrieved his daughter from the rejected-looking diva, comforting her. Silently, he found it rather funny. "Maybe later, when she's got used to you," he told his friend, trying not to snigger.

"Well…yeah," Rachel sat down beside Carole, quieting down a little.

The chatty, family atmosphere returned to normal as everyone caught up. It was lovely to be all together again. Kurt wished Lima was closer to New York-he did miss his father dreadfully sometimes. Eliza really was drifting off to sleep now, making little sounds like she did when she was tired. Her little head lolled against Kurt's chest, and a while later she was out. Amid many "awwh"s, Kurt took her to someplace quieter. After putting her down in her crib, he kissed her gently on her little forehead, and left the room, switching on the baby alarm he kept in his pocket just in case.

After sneaking noiselessly out, Kurt went to check on his husband. He slid into the kitchen equally silently. Blaine had his back to him, cleaning a knife with a dishcloth-but his eyes were clearly fixed out of the window on the street below.

Of course. The Andersons would be here any minute.

Approaching from behind, Kurt wrapped his arms around his waist. "Don't worry," he murmured in his ear. Blaine sighed, putting down the knife and putting his arms over Kurt's. "I know…"

"Honey, they're your parents. Despite the lack of contact and…well, you know-they still are. The place looks great,"

Blaine pretended to be amazed. "Kurt Hummel-Anderson is actually _satisfied _with the state of our home! Dear me!"

Giggling a little, Kurt leaned his head on his husband's shoulder. "They've nothing to find fault with. You've an amazing career, you've two beautiful daughters-"

"And you," Blaine interrupted, finding his hand and squeezing it.

"-and you've done nothing wrong. Nothing," the countertenor said firmly.

* * *

><p>Blaine's parents were late. Very late. It was almost an hour past when they were supposed to have got here. Kurt knew Blaine, despite his jokes and seemingly being relaxed, was on the edge of his seat. Even as he told funny stories and laughed, his eyes kept darting out of the window. Kurt wished, nervous as he was too (though he'd convinced himself there was nothing to worry about), that they'd be here soon, just to put Blaine out of his misery.<p>

As everyone laughed at Finn's stories of what went on at work, Kurt went to check on Eliza, and Lucy followed, skipping along behind him.

"Daddy, why is Daddy B acting so strange?" she asked innocently, doing a bit of a grapevine up and down. Kurt was startled at how perceptive she was already. So suspicious, she could always tell if something was wrong. Blaine always said she was like Grandma Lucy.

"Urm…Well, you know your Grandpa and Grandma Anderson are coming too?"

"Yes. This will be the…" She counted on her fingers. "Third time I've seen them,"

Kurt was surprised. "You know the exact amount?"

"Yes. I don't remember the first two times, but the last one I remember when we went to Grandpa and Nana's house in Lima, and they came for a little while one day," She thought for a second. "They weren't like Grandpa and Nana,"

"No, they weren't," Kurt agreed. That time, they hadn't stayed long at all-and barely said a word to Lucy. Blaine and Kurt had both been hurt, but she'd been half-asleep, so maybe they were just being polite? That's what they'd told themselves.

"And they're coming today? Why is Daddy worried? _I _wouldn't be worried if you were coming to see me,"

Kurt smiled. "I should hope not,"

They'd reached Eliza's door by now. "Shh," Kurt reminded his eldest daughter.

"Shh," she repeated, finger over her heart-shaped lips. Slowly, Kurt opened the door. Eliza was sleeping soundly, making little sounds. Her tiny hand was curled up by her peaceful face, her long eyelashes flickering as she dreamed. Kurt wondered what three-month-olds dreamed of. How could someone who was still blissfully mostly unaware of the world they lived in, dream up a fantasy? Was it easier that way? All Eliza knew was people who loved her. There was no hurt or hatred in her world, and Kurt would do everything in his power to ensure it stayed that way. Well, at least she couldn't have nightmares. He wondered what was going through her mind. The imagination of a child is cracked right open, a place where anything is possible. Whatever she was seeing, Kurt hoped it was sweet.

Putting an arm around Lucy, he quietly closed the door, and they started back to the living room-and instantly, there was a cry from behind.

"Well, it was quiet while it lasted!" Kurt smiled, shaking his head fondly. "Lucy, honey, how about you show everyone your horse-riding photos?"

As she skipped off happily, Kurt turned back to see to his other, considerably louder daughter. "Oh dear, Eliza, you're not a happy girl today," He approached the crib, where the child who'd been sleeping so tranquilly was now crying. Gently, he lifted her up. "What's up, hmm?"

Eliza quietened just a little, comforted by Kurt's soft voice, but was still very upset. Maybe babies could have nightmares after all. He held her close, head over his shoulder, rocking gently from side to side. "There now," he murmured. "There now," So softly, he sang, the song that usually comforted her.

"_So look with your heart, and not with your eyes_

_The heart understands, the heart never lies…"_

Eventually, the crying subsided, and she calmed down. But she still wanted something. Kurt didn't know how he could tell, but he could. "Are you hungry?" he asked her. She looked at him with big, blue eyes, fresher from her little sleep.

"_Love is not always beautiful, not at the start_

_So open your arms, and close your eyes tight_

_Look with your heart, and when it finds love, your heart will be right…"_

As he sang the last little bit, he carried her through to the kitchen to check if she wanted her lunch. It wouldn't be long before she could start on proper baby foods, but for now, it was still the formula milk. Kurt couldn't understand how babies could stand the stuff, but Eliza seemed to enjoy it.

From the living room, Blaine smiled as he heard Kurt's sweet singing. "_Love Never Dies…" _he murmured.

"Bit of an odd choice to sing to a baby, that show. It's a bit morbid," Rachel commented.

"Eliza loves all that sort of stuff. The more morbid the show, the better. I got her to sleep with _Empty Chairs At Empty Tables _from_ Les Mis _once,"

"Oh no, I'm glad I wasn't there-I cry when I hear that!" Rachel laughed.

"Lucy used to like _Hushabye Mountain_, didn't you, honey?" Blaine smiled at his daughter, who was sat cross-legged on the rug. She looked a little embarrassed, but nodded.

"A _lot_ more appropriate," Rachel grinned.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Burt said bemusedly-and everyone laughed.

Suddenly-the front door bell rang.

Blaine felt himself go tense. His heart had begun to go a little faster. But before anyone could notice anything was wrong, he'd got up of his own accord, and walked faster to the door than he would have liked.

As he began to open it, all too soon, he prayed everything would be alright.

On the doorstep were his parents, looking anxious as he was. That was a marginal comfort.

Mrs Anderson was still dressed that little bit too young for her, the lipstick running into the creases in her lips. Her hair was back in a neat bun, with many grips. It looked uncomfortable. Mr Anderson had hardly changed at all from Blaine's teen years; the black suit, the blank expression, even the same hat and gloves. Perhaps he was a little more lined than he used to be, but nothing more than that.

"Hello, darling," said his mother after a while. She leaned forward and kissed him on both cheeks. Blaine relaxed a little-at least she was being her version of friendly. She looked around the spotless hall, with equally expensive apartments around. "This is a really lovely area,"

Silently breathing a sigh of relief, Blaine smiled. He turned to his father-who nodded curtly. "Blaine," he greeted him.

"Dad," Blaine answered, putting out a hand-which thankfully Mr Anderson shook without hesitation. But they still both looked a little apprehensive about entering the apartment. "Come in," he said, warmly. Inside, you could just about hear Lucy chatting to everyone, and, if you listened very carefully, Kurt softly singing to Eliza in the kitchen.

"Urm…Blaine," Suddenly, his mother looked as awkward as his father. They were hiding something.

"What?" he asked carefully.

"…We thought you wouldn't mind. She was in New York anyway…"

Frowning, Blaine craned his neck over his parent's shoulders, to see behind. Someone was with them. He looked

And there was his grandmother.

Not Grandma Lucy. His father's mother. Grandma Anderson.

The woman who'd left the house without a word that day upon discovering Blaine was gay.

The woman he'd not seen, or heard from, in twelve years. Since that day. The day that started it all.

And now here she was. On his doorstep, with her dyed-blonde hair and pink suit-and a disdainful expression.

His stomach dropped like a stone.

"_Look with your heart, and when it find love, your heart will be right…"_


	36. Epilogue Part ThreeFinale

For a moment, Blaine could not move. His whole body seemed to have frozen solid, like he'd been Petrified. But now was not the moment for Harry Potter. Though he imagined this was close to how Harry felt in the _Prisoner of Azkaban _when he first saw Sirius Black-before he knew he hadn't betrayed his parents to the Dark Lord. However, he felt there wasn't going to be a loving reconcile in his situation anytime soon. Grandma Anderson's eyes were cold as ice.

All the memories of that day, all those years ago, came flooding back. The dreadful silence after he'd let slip about Kurt, the stabbing words of his father that still clung, later, being thrown out, curling up to sleep on Grandma Lucy's couch with no idea what would happen tomorrow.

He still had not forgiven his parents, and doubted he ever truly would. But this woman, Grandma Anderson-he'd known having a gay grandson would destroy her. He'd thought of her once or twice over the years, wondering what she was doing with her life. He gathered she'd be at social events and parties, still lying through her much-whitened teeth about her age and pretending Blaine had never existed. That was fine with him-the only grandparent he'd ever felt close to was, of course, Grandma Lucy. It wasn't that big a loss for him.

But now, here she was. Right in front of him, staring with those cold green eyes, her face covered in thick powder, her eyes heavily outlined in garish blue, with her long, talon-like nails painted dark red. Exactly how he remembered her, except older and a pound or two heavier. Goodness, she'd be gone eighty now. She looked damn good on it though.

There was only one of her, but it was like the whole Anderson family, so quick to judge and disown him, had turned up.

"Yes, we figured you wouldn't mind us bringing Cynthia along, hey?" his anxious mother was saying hurriedly. "You haven't met for years!"

There was a reason for that. Grandma Anderson eyed him, as if X-Raying him.

"I didn't want to come," she said bluntly, ever brutally honest. Blaine started at how familiar her voice was.

This was too much. His parents visiting for the first time-and taking the woman who'd made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. Part of him wanted to say _Well leave then-_but it felt like he was letting her win. He wouldn't do that.

"Well, let's not stand here all day," Grandma Anderson walked straight past Blaine, as if she were being forced, into the hallway, putting down her crocodile-skinned bag with a thump. The guitarist was a little taken aback. Nervously, his parents followed.

Grandma Anderson was looking critically around the hall, which was neat as anything, and looked like it had been designed by an expert. "Hmm…" was all she said. She didn't seem wary at all-but her eyes were darting around everywhere.

Blaine could not believe her cheek, marching in here after making it very clear she didn't want to be here at all, then judging the home Blaine loved so much and had worked so hard to get.

Suddenly, a thought flashed horribly in his mind-what about Kurt?

"Do you live alone now?" she suddenly barked at him, like a military order. Right on cue, there was a burst of laughter from the living room. She looked surprised. "No?"

"Blaine's…extended family are over too," Mrs Anderson explained quickly.

"Your side?" she put to her, not quite as forcefully.

"Well, no-"

"Blaine, what's going on?" Burt came into the hall, closing the living room door behind him.

"Who are you?" Grandma Anderson asked, quite rudely. Blaine was literally on the verge of telling her to leave.

Burt looked a bit put out to be quizzed in this way from a woman he'd never met. "I might ask you the same question," His tone was polite, but edgy. "Blaine's my son-in-law,"

Grandma Anderson's eyes popped in amazement. "You never told me he'd got married!" she said to Blaine's parents, who shifted guiltily. Blaine shot his mother and father a look, but not for long. There were bigger things going on now. But they hadn't told anyone he'd married?

You could see Grandma Anderson's brain working as she thought this over. Still not looking at Blaine, she asked Mr Anderson: "Edward, you had better tell me he didn't marry a-" She lowered her voice. "-a-_male_?"

"Yes, I did,"

Blaine had answered before he'd thought about it. But he stood firm.

The old woman was looking at him like he'd just drowned a kitten.

There was a very uncomfortable silence in the hallway. Faintly, you could hear Carole and Rachel talking from the other side of the closed door. Blaine could see the cogs whirring in Burt's head as he worked out what sort of woman he was dealing with here. Now, Burt was not usually nowadays a man with a temper. But when it came to anything potentially harming to his son, whom he still protected with his life, all that went out of the window. Mr and Mrs Anderson exchanged glances of desperation. But Blaine merely stared his paternal grandmother right in the eyes, daring her to say more.

"How could you let this happen?" Grandma Anderson turned sharply to her son, Blaine's father.

"Let _what_ happen, precisely?" Blaine challenged her.

"Let-you-turn-out-"

"_Gay_?" Blaine finished for her, deliberately. She almost flinched at the word.

"What my son is is none of my doing," Mr Anderson's monotone voice broke though. Strangely-he seemed to be almost _defending _Blaine.

"But how could you let him marry a-a-"

"A _what_?" Burt's tone was dangerous.

Blaine could not understand it. Even after all these years of enduring stupidity, he still didn't get how people could be so against gay marriage. How could two people who love each other, promising to spend the rest of their lives together, be wrong? How was it any different to when Grandma Anderson had married her husband?

"What Blaine does is none of my doing," Mrs Anderson cut in. "Or Edward's. Yes, Blaine is married to a-a man-and Blaine-" She suddenly turned to her son. "Please, I am so sorry for not being there. You can't imagine how much I regret-"

"But you still didn't come," Blaine put bluntly. But he was surprised. For the first time ever out loud, she'd acknowledged his relationship with a male.

"Oh, Blaine, I wish you could see-"

"See what?" Blaine hated having this argument, but he had things to say. "Why you feel you can drop me and pick me up whenever it suits you? I don't understand you, Mom, Dad: one minute you're all "I'll try and accept", next you cut me out and don't bother with my _wedding_, and now you're rushing to my defence?" He turned to his grandmother, feeling a little bad-but this had to be done. "And I cannot believe you had the _audacity_ to come here, after twelve years of pretending you don't have a grandson, and just tell me my life is wrong, simply because of who I m-"

"Daddy?" Lucy put her head around the door. "What's going on?"

"_Daddy_?" Grandma Anderson snapped her head around and took in the little girl, who looked curiously back at her.

"Daddy, who is this, please?" Lucy asked, a damn sight politer than the woman had asked Burt.

"_Daddy_?" Grandma Anderson repeated, looking at Blaine. "You had kids?"

Blaine looked disbelievingly at his parents. "You didn't-?"

"Blaine, we-" Mrs Anderson began, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Look, I don't want excuses," Blaine breathed out hard, then went over to his daughter, kneeling down so they were at eye level. "Sweetheart," he began, his tone far softer now. "don't stand in the doorway, you'll trap a finger,"

Obediently, Lucy stepped back-but she still wanted answers. "What's going on?"

He looked into her big blue-green eyes, seeing the concern forming in them. "Everything's okay," He hated fobbing her off with the clichéd phrase, but she seemed to understand. "Go back to your nana, I'll be there in minute," He gently stroked her hair. "Don't you worry, okay?"

"Okay," Lucy reached out a little hand and patted Blaine's own shorter dark curls. "Don't _you_ worry, Daddy,"

A warm feeling filled Blaine, like hot chocolate on a snowy day. He smiled, despite the situation behind him. "I won't if you don't, Princess,"

After she'd skipped back into the living room, Blaine closed the door carefully behind her, thanking everything for his daughters.

"Blaine-" Mrs Anderson started again.

"No," Blaine put up a hand to stop her. "Now," He looked at both his parents and his grandmother. "Take me or leave me. Me, my daughters, and my husband. Or go,"

There was a moment of silence.

"Blaine, what's going-oh!" Kurt squeaked in surprise and alarm as he came into the hall and took in the scene. His blue-green eyes widened as he looked at Blaine's parents, then his grandmother. Grandma Anderson looked him up and down, as if studying a painting, her eyes narrow. The countertenor looked instantly uncomfortable, trying to work out who this woman was.

Blaine saw Burt instinctively step closer to his son, protectively.

"Who is that?" Grandma Anderson put to Blaine, forcefully. The fire of anger in Blaine's chest grew.

"_That _is my husband. Kurt, this is my grandmother,"

"Oh," Kurt looked uneasy-but tried to smile politely. "Nice to meet you, Mrs-"

"Daughters _plural_?" Grandma Anderson barked over him, as if he hadn't said a word. Looking a little abashed at this eighty-year-old woman being so blunt and frankly rude, Kurt instinctively closed the door to the kitchen, where Eliza still was, and quickly checked the living room, where Lucy was, was shut too, just as his father had for him.

"Yes," Blaine continued, staring her down. "You've two great-grandchildren,"

Grandma Anderson sniffed. Her eyes flicked back to Kurt, looking at him like he was the cause of a huge problem. The guitarist could see his husband starting to get very bothered by this, biting his lip, and the fire expanded again.

"Don't look at him like-" Blaine started fiercely.

"Who are you?" Suddenly, Grandma Anderson addressed Kurt, who's eyes widened, frightened, for a moment. But he stood firm.

"Kurt," he answered simply.

"_Kurt_?" the old woman repeated. Then, she turned back to Blaine. "This isn't still the same one?"

"The very same," Blaine answered for him.

Grandma Anderson looked amazed. For a moment, she didn't say anything. She looked from Blaine to Kurt, who stared right back at her, refusing to budge.

"Edward?" Her voice was smaller now as she looked almost pleadingly at her son. "Why?"

"Why what?" Mr Anderson's voice was still flat.

"Why don't you say anything? You make out like this is _okay_-"

"Blaine is my _son_!"

Everyone stared at Mr Anderson-had he really just raised his voice like that, with so much emotion? For the first time, Blaine could almost see himself, reflected in his father.

"Edward?" Grandma Anderson looked scandalised and confused.

"You know, watching you stood here, like this-you've made me realise a lot of things!" Mr Anderson's robotic face had suddenly come to life. It was almost scary. "I see the bigger picture now, and I can't believe I missed it. _You_ were the reason I neglected my son through the time I should have been most proud of him! Wasn't it you who told me to cut him off the minute he moved to New York? You told me you never wanted to hear his name again, now he'd "done this". And me, the idiot that I am, let you drill all this into me again, all this hatred of my _own_ son! How could you speak that way about your _own_ grandson? You manipulated me until I was too ashamed to go to my son's wedding, and I let you!"

Grandma Anderson was looking shocked.

"I'll have you know, Mother, that I will no longer let you tell me what I think. Right from when I was a child, you told me what I thought. Well, it took me fifty years, but now, I will no longer parrot your opinions-and least of all about Blaine!"

There was a long silence.

"Thanks to you," Mr Anderson's voice was quieter now, but just as dangerous. "I have missed the most important part of my son's life. But no more. Thanks to you, I have missed my granddaughters' first few years-time I will never get back. And now, all I can say to you is: open your eyes," He gestured to Kurt. "Kurt is my son's husband, my son-in-law, and if you don't like that, you don't deserve either of them in your life,"

He was breathing hard, like he'd never talked so much in his life. Well, he probably hadn't.

Kurt looked amazed. Despite everything, a little light crept into Blaine's mind. _Kurt is my son's husband, my son-in-law. _

He couldn't believe it. So many thoughts buzzed through his mind like darts. Mr Anderson-_it's okay to be gay. _Who'd have thought?

"Yes. Kurt is my son-in-law," Mrs Anderson broke the silence, going over to him and putting a hand on the countertenor's shoulder. "And I will no longer tolerate homophobia,"

"Yes," Mr Anderson nodded firmly. "No hate,"

Grandma Anderson's face was a picture. She was not used to being spoken to like that, particularly by her quiet, usually emotionless son. But now, Mr Anderson had shown he had a passionate bone in his body-and she was shellshocked. She looked from him to Blaine, to Mrs Anderson. Then finally, her eyes came to rest on Kurt. His eyes were large, innocent, appealing. Through the silence, from behind the kitchen door, Eliza made a slight sound, talking in her own language. The old woman's eyes were turned to the floor-in a rare moment of-_shame_?

You could literally have cut the atmosphere with a sword.

"Daddy?" Lucy crept around the door, breaking the stillness. She was holding Rachel's hand tightly, as if expecting something bad to happen. Her little face was tear tracked, her eyes wide and worried. "Daddy, what's happening? Why is there shouting?"

Blaine's heart broke to see his little girl upset. Looking around at the faces she knew, those she barely knew, and the complete stranger-she ran to Kurt, letting go of Rachel. Kurt bent down on the floor to catch her, and hugged her close. She leaned in, needing to feel safe, the kind of safe only a parent's arms could provide.

"I'm sorry you got scared," Kurt murmured gently to her. "Everything's…" He wanted to say _fine_, but looked up at the surrounding people for confirmation.

"This is…Lucy?" Grandma Anderson checked, studying the little girl like a book. Kurt instinctively folded his arms tighter around his daughter.

"Yes," Blaine answered her coldly.

"Daddy, who is that?" Lucy whispered into Kurt's shoulder.

"Your great-grandmother," Blaine answered. Though she didn't deserve to be.

"Wow! I never knew I had one!" Lucy looked up at her curiously. Grandma Anderson looked back at her, eyebrows raised slightly as she tried desperately to find fault, some reason to instantly dislike this little girl.

But she couldn't. Lucy blinked up at her, all big eyes and tear-stains. There was no badness in this child.

"Hello, Lucy," the old woman said stiffly.

"Hello. Nice to meet you," Lucy replied, like she'd been taught. Grandma Anderson looked surprised. Kurt had not let go, his arms protectively around her. Though he looked a little more relaxed now.

"Pretty," she said, reaching out a wrinkled hand and gently touching her hair. Immediately, Kurt went to pull his daughter back-but she simply patted her curls, slightly warily. Lucy finally smiled up at her-and Grandma Anderson's mouth twitched. The smile of a child is contagious.

"And the other one is…?"

"Elizabeth," Blaine said. He was still watching the old woman like a hawk. "Well, Eliza,"

"Can I…?" Grandma Anderson asked, her voice even quieter now. She seemed still shocked at her son's outburst.

"I don't see why you should-" Blaine began protectively.

"Blaine," Kurt held up a hand. Strangely, despite everything, Kurt seemed to have found it in his heart to _pity_ her. Cautiously, he let go of Lucy, who's hand was immediately taken by Burt. It was as if everyone was expecting something awful to happen. Kurt disappeared into the kitchen, and emerged a few seconds later with the baby. Blaine heard his parents make small gaspy sounds-of course they hadn't seen her either. Eliza hadn't noticed everyone stood around-she only had eyes for the little grey teddy bear in Kurt's hand. He held it up so she could see him properly, and she made a happy gurgling sound.

"There," Kurt looked politely at Grandma Anderson, his high voice clear and pleasant. "Here she is,"

Grandma Anderson couldn't take her eyes off the baby, who was trying to take hold of the teddy in her too-small hands. Gently, Kurt gave his daughter a kiss, never taking his eyes off the old woman.

"Can I hold her?" Mrs Anderson's voice came from behind her.

"Of course," Slowly, Kurt moved across the room, and oh so gently placed Eliza in his mother-in-law's arms. Realising something was going on, Eliza tried to cling to her father, but didn't try too hard. Mrs Anderson carefully adjusted her hold, so she was comfortable. Looking up at her, Eliza did not cry, seeming to be reserving judgement on this new person.

Mrs Anderson made a small sound, a gasp of pleasure. "Hello," she said to her granddaughter for the first time. "Hello, angel,"

Blaine started-his mother hadn't said "darling"?

"Right," Grandma Anderson coughed a little. She seemed somehow-different. "Well…I'd better be going?"

"Are you sure you won't stay?" Kurt asked her politely, his smile genuine. His _kill them with kindness _technique worked a treat.

"Urm, no. I'd better get home. I'm meeting someone this evening…but…" She paused, wondering if she dared ask. "Could I perhaps see the girls again?"

Before Blaine could instantly give his answer, Kurt stepped in. "Maybe. It'd be nice if you got to know them,"

Grandma Anderson looked amazed, as if she couldn't believe a _homosexual_ could be as human as anyone. "Right…"

"Yes. It might be nice," Blaine's voice was stiff. He was against this idea entirely-she did not deserve to see them. But maybe Kurt was right. His parents had changed, so maybe…

"Well. Goodbye," Grandma Anderson turned to leave. Mr and Mrs Anderson made small farewell sounds. Blaine said nothing at all, but Kurt remained smiling politely.

"Blaine, Kurt…?" Grandma Anderson tried. "Maybe…we could get coffee sometime?"

The guitarist was startled-what a quick turn around! He looked disbelievingly at his grandmother. But she seemed-sorry.

For the first time in her life, she was feeling remorse.

"That would be nice," Kurt smiled. "It would be great to get to know you,"

Blaine stared at his husband-how could he be so forgiving over something like this? Kurt's heart was the size of Jupiter, however when it came to homophobia, he drew the line. But he believed everyone deserved a chance.

Blaine guessed he did too.

If she was prepared to give them a chance, he would too.

You know, Kurt still continued to surprise him every day.

"Right. Well. I'll just be going," Grandma Anderson opened the door and was about to leave-

"Bye, Great-Nana," Lucy waved, the unsuspecting child as always. Grandma Anderson stopped, as if something had come over her.

"Goodbye, Lucy," she said. Then, quickly, she closed the door behind her.

Collectively, particularly Kurt and Blaine, the whole room breathed out heavily, so hard Blaine swore the tinsel decoratively around the ceiling waved.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" Mrs Anderson said, still looking on the verge of tears.

"Oh no, it's fine," Kurt re-assured her. "I think your grandmother might have learned something, Blaine,"

"I think she definitely did," Burt sounded satisfied.

"What?" Lucy asked.

"Let's just say the world might be a little better now than it was this morning," Blaine leaned down and picked Lucy up, giving her a kiss.

Who'd have thought it? The old, traditional Andersons were changing. It was wonderful.

Blaine looked at Kurt adoringly, wishing he could kiss him. But he doubted his parents were ready for that kind of action yet.

"I think I remember you," Lucy suddenly said to Mr Anderson, who started a little. But then-he did something Blaine had never seen him do.

He smiled.

A proper smile, a real, stretch-to-the-eyes smile, where his mouth moved and everything.

This was an amazing day.

It almost didn't quite suit him, he was such an expressionless man. But it was like seeing a whole different person.

"I remember you, Lucy," He looked down at her. "Only you were a little smaller back then. You're nearly a young lady now, aren't you?"

Lucy giggled, looking delighted.

Blaine could not help it. He did something he'd never dreamed of doing. He went over and hugged his father.

It was weird. It was awkward. It was tense, and there was a large gap between them. But Blaine could not mistake the fact that his father's arms, after a second, folded lightly around him.

It was the most beautiful moment of their relationship.

After it was over, Blaine immediately went and hugged his mother, so much smaller than him. This time, it was a lot closer, and she even kissed his cheek.

Blaine could feel tears behind his eyes-this was all he'd ever wanted. His parents finally fully accepted him.

Finally, Blaine's life was perfect. His parents, his beautiful daughters.

And, to finish the vision of perfection, his amazing, beautiful husband. His best friend, his world, his everything. His Kurt.

_How wonderful life is, now you're in the world…_

* * *

><p>"Daddy!"<p>

Suddenly, a little, loud voice broke into Kurt's head, cutting through the fuzziness of sleep. His eyes would not open, too heavy. Gradually, he became aware of the duvet over him, the mattress beneath him, Blaine's arms still around him. His mind was not functioning. His body clock was screaming _too early, too early, must sleep! _

"Daddy!"

Slowly, his eyes herculeanly forced opened, to see his five-year-old bouncing all over the bed in her Tinkerbell pyjamas, excited beyond anything. His eyes flicked over to the clock on the wall-twenty to six.

Behind him, Blaine moaned a little, obviously awakening too. Lucy hopped around eagerly, so much energy at this ungodly hour.

"It's Christmas day!" she sang. "And Santa's been!"

Gah. It wasn't even six o'clock. This had to be a record. But nevertheless, a childish surge of excitement came through him. Christmas day. "Happy Christmas, Princess," His voice wasn't more than a whisper, croaky from sleep.

"Happy Christmas!" Lucy bent down and began to shake the half-comatose Blaine. "Daddy!"

"Goodness," Blaine's voice had the same croaky quality as his golden eyes slid open. "Lucy, honey, you are the only person in the world who could wake me up this early and not be thrown off the roof,"

Giggling , Lucy sat down, crosslegged beside them.

"Shhh," Kurt sat up slowly, detangling himself from Blaine. "I think everyone else is asleep,"

"No," Lucy was practically jumping up and down. "Uncle Finn is up too-I saw him in the hallway,"

"Typical," Kurt smiled. Christmas excitement was the only thing that could get Finn out of bed.

From the foot of the bed, where Eliza's cot was, there was a cry. She had her own room, with a cot, but had probably never spent the night there.

"Look, 'Liza's up too!" Lucy sprung down and carefully lifted her sister up, sitting back down on the bed, Eliza in her lap. "It's Christmas, Ellie! Your first one! Wait 'til you see what I've got you!"

Kurt smiled at his little girls, leaning his head on Blaine-who had nodded off.

"Wake up, Blainey," He nudged him in the ribs. "You've the early shift too,"

Blaine moaned, showing no signs of movement. Kurt gently shoved him into a sitting position.

"Gahh," The guitarist forced his eyes open. He looked at Kurt reproachfully. "If you weren't so cute…"

"Well, lucky I am then," Kurt said lightly, kissing him on the lips. "Happy Christmas, sweetheart,"

"Happy Christmas," Blaine kissed him back, waking up now. "Wait until you see what I've got _you_,"

"Oh no, honey! You shouldn't have!"

"You tell me that ever year. And every year, I will get you a Christmas present,"

"Well…I might have got you one too," Kurt grinned.

"Even though I told you not to? We're a right pair," Blaine kissed him again. "I love you,"

"I love you too," Kurt smiled, repeating the words they'd shared so many times since the first time. He turned to the girls. "And you two,"

"Love you too! And you, Daddy B!" Lucy beamed excitedly.

"Yeah, I love you and all, Princess," Blaine leaned his head into Kurt's shoulder.

"I love all of you-even at quarter to six in the morning," came Burt's voice from the other side of the door.

"Sorry, Dad!" Kurt called sheepishly.

"Do I have any presents?" Lucy asked her parents hopefully.

"You might. How about you go look under the tree in the living room? I dare say Grandpa will go with you,"

"Yay! But I'll wait until you both get there too!" She was off like a shot, singing _Fairytale of New York_ to meet Burt outside.

"Is that an appropriate song for our five-year-old to be singing?"

"Probably not," Blaine laughed. "But at least she has good taste!"

"Look Grandpa, the cookie and milk have gone! And the carrot!" Lucy's voice came from down the hall.

"So they have, precious,"

Kurt and Blaine jumped-that was Mr Anderson's voice!

"Imagine-my dad up at this hour for Christmas!" Blaine spluttered disbelievingly.

"It's a miracle!" Kurt laughed. "Well, it _is _Christmas,"

Happily, listening to their eldest run around the living room, trying to guess what everything was, Kurt got up and opened the curtains-and the still-dark landscape was coated with a thick white icing, that had not been there yesterday. Snow. The matter had magicafied the whole of New York City, turning it into every movie scene. The big white flakes still fell and settled like confetti onto the build-up of white on the ground. Snow was beautiful, giving the whole world a different look, as if cleaning it, cleansing it of dirt and making everything glorious. Still unspoiled by footsteps, it looked like a Christmas card. Kurt smiled excitedly-this would be the best Christmas ever, with all his family. And so, Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson, Eliza in Kurt's arms, left the room, and began toward the living room, where Christmas day had begun…

**THE END**

**And so ends an era! :D**

**There are no words for me to thank you enough. I could write essays, but THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU so much to everyone who's read, reviewed, favourited, anything-you've all made my life a little more wonderful :')**

**I LOVE you all :')**

**Wishing you all a lovely Christmas, and a Gleeful new year! **

**All my love, PhantomVoldyGleek24601:Dxxxxxxxxxx**


End file.
